


Pay For It

by hannah_baker



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergent, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex Worker AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker/pseuds/hannah_baker
Summary: The start of the year was slow and painful, zero goals for anyone in their first million games. But Dylan had put a puck in the back of the net tonight, and fuck, he wanted to celebrate. He wanted to celebrate more than getting drunk at some dumb bar with his friends. What he wanted was to pick up. What he wanted was to get fucked.For whatever reason, it was easier in junior to get off with your teammates. Or maybe it was just because the Otters were grossly close. But the show, and the A, just weren’t like that. When Dylan had gotten down to Arizona, he’d figured out that he needed a backup plan. And that backup plan was paying for it.--An AU where Dylan is a hockey player and Jordie is a sex worker.





	Pay For It

**Author's Note:**

> The actual hockey in this fic is pretty handwavey, but based on Real Events - just don’t like, look at a schedule or you’ll cry. Also, I decided for my own health and happiness to skip writing about Chicago. So instead, Dylan gets traded to Montreal. I do not care if that doesn’t make sense, if I haven't yet made that clear by my dedication to this pairing. 
> 
> Also I know virtually nothing about like, actual sex work but I do want to be respectful. If there’s anything I didn’t tag you think I should, please kindly let me know and I would be happy to add. 
> 
> There is one condom-less bj. The daddy kink tag isn’t terribly kinky - there’s no d/s stuff or anything. There is a very brief (two paragraphs), non-explicit account of Jordie with a different client. I hope I'm covering everything! 
> 
> Thank you to Lotts for cheerleading! Much appreciated. They helped turn this from an almost abandoned fic to a finished one. Woohoo!

Dylan felt like he was still chasing after a carrot on a stick entering his fourth year of hockey after his draft. He knew it was normal for some guys to have a slower start than others, and this year, he was making the fucking show or else. 

 

His house was crowded with the energy of young hockey players all after the same thing: a career that would go into the record books. It was hard to hang out with Crouser and Chych and Kells and listen to his coaches and the media talk about how important they were to the Coyotes future. He’d received the same hot air up his ass—that he was part of the future of the Coyotes. Part of the plan. 

 

He just wished he didn’t feel so fucking stuck where he was. He didn’t feel like his coaches wanted to play him more, wanted to develop him. He felt like they wanted to punish him. 

 

The start of the year was slow and painful, zero goals for anyone in their first million games. But Dylan had put a puck in the back of the net tonight, and fuck, he wanted to celebrate. He wanted to celebrate more than getting drunk at some dumb bar with his friends. What he wanted was to pick up. What he wanted was to get fucked. 

 

For whatever reason, it was easier in junior to get off with your teammates. Or maybe it was just because the Otters were grossly close. But the show, and the A, just weren’t like that. When Dylan had gotten down to Arizona, he’d figured out that he needed a backup plan. And that backup plan was paying for it. 

 

He didn’t do it often. But sometimes he needed more than just his hand and some porn, and he figured out who to call when he was in Tucson. 

 

He sat in his car after the game, jittery from nerves, jittery from scoring, jittery at the prospect of getting caught by a teammate in the parking garage. He made a call. 

 

The woman who he talked to had spoken to him before, pulled up his account in the system that listed his, um, preferences, and put him on hold to see if anyone was available for that night, like...kind of now. Generally, they liked pre-appointments, but Dylan struggled with thinking into the future. He was so concerned with the present and the moment right after it that booking appointments for anything, let alone sex, slipped his mind. 

 

When the elevator-y hold music cut out, he was talking to Cynthia again. “You’re in luck, hun. Jordie is available tonight and can meet you in an hour. Let me quick book a hotel room for you, and I’ll send you the info via email. Is the credit card on file still your preferred payment method?” 

 

Dylan confirmed his payment and hung up, ready to kill the fifteen minutes before he got his hotel assignment. Ugh, the business of sex. It was so sterile to set up sex this way. It was easier when he could pick up, or when he could just...buddyfuck. 

 

But there were benefits to having anonymous sex with someone you were paying for it from. One, you support your local economy. Dylan rolled his eyes at himself for even thinking that. Generally, the sex he’s paid for had always been a good time. Really, a great time. It was always satisfying and very focused on what he wanted, even though he couldn’t imagine not recropricating. The guys he’d been hooked up with were sexy and professional. He wasn’t looking for someone to settle down with just yet. And he certainly wasn’t looking to come out during his hockey career. 

 

His phone buzzed with an email from the agency with all of his details. He could check into his hotel now. Jordie, his _date_ for the night, would be there in forty-five minutes. He punched in the address and headed over. 

 

He had a drink at the hotel bar to loosen up a little bit, then went up to his room. He had messages on his phone from his teammates, bothering him about where he was. He didn’t lie. Or, he didn’t lie much. He said he’d gone out to pickup. Wish him luck, maybe won’t be home tonight, whatever. 

 

He scrolled Twitter and waited. 

 

Finally, there was a knock on the door, and when Dylan opened it, he was greeted by a fucking lumberjack. Built and thick, with a huge red beard, soft eyes, and full tattoo sleeves. He had black jeans on and a screen printed t-shirt, and Dylan was into it immediately. 

 

“Hey, I’m Jordie,” he said, holding his hand out for a handshake. Dylan took it, introduced himself, and tried not to stutter. He closed the door behind Jordie and flipped the lock. 

 

“Sounds like you have something to celebrate,” Jordie said, his hands settling on Dylan’s shoulders before sliding down his arms, the contact warm and electric. Dylan could feel himself reacting to Jordie’s presence, the knowledge of what he was here to do. 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said, already feeling the kind of dumb that he got around boys. _Men_ , he corrected mentally. Because Jordie wasn’t a boy. Jordie was a grown man with big shoulders and hopefully big everything else. 

 

“You want to share that with the class, or keep it to yourself?” 

 

“Scored a goal tonight finally. I play hockey. It was a big goal,” Dylan said. Most of the guys he’d fucked like this didn’t give a single shit about hockey. Not in Arizona. But Jordie’s eyes lit up. 

 

“I used to play when I was a kid. That’s awesome.” He’d kept his hands on Dylan, just gentle, light touches until Dylan reciprocated, bringing his arms up to wrap around Jordie’s neck. He had this big, genuine smile and this close, Dylan could see freckles on every bit of skin Jordie was displaying. Dylan had never been with a redhead before. He wondered if he had freckles everywhere. 

 

“Can I kiss you?” Jordie asked, hands on Dylan’s waist now, pulling him close. This first bit where you had to make someone’s acquaintance always went a little differently. Some guys took longer to dive right in. But Jordie was going for it, and Dylan was surprised to feel so comfortable with Jordie so soon. He had a soothing presence about him. 

 

Dylan just nodded as he leaned in, Jordie’s lips warm and welcoming, his hands pulling Dylan’s hips closer until they were pressed together. Dylan’s arms tightened around Jordie’s neck, holding him there. Jordie kissed him slow and dirty, and it didn’t take long until Dylan was breathing hard, his pulse quick beneath his skin. 

 

“Wow,” Dylan said as he pulled away, fingers coming up to touch his buzzing lips. Usually, he liked holding on to some semblance of chill, but he couldn’t locate his chill at the moment if someone paid him. 

 

Jordie leaned in close, brushing their noses together, light and playful. “You like that, baby?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, kissing Jordie again. Jordie’s hands slowly worked their way up Dylan’s shirt, and his bare skin on Dylan’s back was warm, his hands rough and calloused. Dylan was hard and pressed close enough into Jordie that he could tell Jordie was hard too. It was always gratifying, when you paid for sex, to feel like the other person was into it too. Sex was a conversation, an exchange, and Dylan wanted it to be reciprocal. It was the most fun that way. 

 

“What else do you like?” Jordie asked, nipping at Dylan’s bottom lip. Dylan moaned. He felt like his body was jelly. Like he was glad Jordie was there, just so he had someone to currently hold him upright. 

 

“Everything,” Dylan said. He could feel his blood in his veins, prickly from so much adrenaline, and he just wanted help coming down from that. But he knew that comedown would only arrive after a ramp up, like a rollercoaster that has to click up to the top of the lift hill before plunging back to earth. 

 

Jordie too his hands from Dylan’s waist so he could cup Dylan’s cheeks. “You might have to be a little more specific,” he said, kissing him again. 

 

Dylan tried again. “I just want you to fuck me,” and Jordie smiled a smile that reached his eyes. 

 

“I would like to do that very much.” Jordie pulled Dylan’s t-shirt over his head, then stripped his own shirt off, revealing a body that was fit and tight. Jordie was barrel-chested, and his freckles made him look like someone had spatter-painted them on his whole body, just a hint of chest hair that made Dylan want to growl. This was one of the hardest parts of being gay in the NHL for him. The fact that he was attracted to like, huge dudes. Strong men. Really brawny men. He felt like he might be more accepted if he was the strong one. If he was the ‘man’ in the relationship. 

 

But the truth was when you’re gay, you’re both the men in the relationship. Dylan didn’t see the difference if you asked him. 

 

Dylan touched Jordie’s chest and Jordie let him soak him in a bit, before working on Dylan’s belt. He kissed up Dylan’s neck, nosed behind his ear before nipping at the hinge of his jaw. “Tell me about your goal,” he said, and Dylan couldn’t help but brag. 

 

“It was a power play goal,” he said, steadying himself by holding onto Jordie’s shoulders. “I’d made an attempt right before that didn’t go in, so when I threw it toward the net that time, I kind of thought it wouldn’t happen then either. We hadn’t scored at all this season until that goal, and I was honestly just shocked,” he was rambling, but Jordie _mhmm_ ’d into his neck and Dylan shivered. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Dylan said, getting impatient and shoving his pants and underwear down his hips. 

 

Jordie followed suit, pushing his pants down to reveal a dick that Dylan was grateful to have in the same room as him let alone up his ass soon, hopefully. It was thick and hard and flushed, and Dylan _wanted._

 

He got on the bed without having to be told, while Jordie grabbed lube and condoms. Dylan leaned against the head of the bed and Jordie sat down by his waist, one hand holding onto his ankle. 

 

“Tell me a little about what you like. How do you like to be prepped?” he asked, and Dylan blushed a little. He knew communication was the key to good sex, much like it was the key to good hockey. 

 

“On my knees,” he said, and Jordie rubbed the hand on his ankle up to his knee and back. 

 

“Okay,” Jordie said, leaning down to kiss him once more, before swatting him on the hip to turn over. Dylan climbed onto his knees and felt Jordie settle behind him, his hands smoothing over the skin on Dylan’s thighs, up his ass and his lower back, and then back down his legs. Dylan breathed slow and even and felt Jordie press a kiss to one of his ass cheeks. 

 

“You ready?” Jordie asked, and Dylan took one more breath. 

 

“Please,” he said, and felt the slick tip of one of Jordie’s fingers slowly circle his hole, then push in. Jordie went slow, gauging Dylan’s progress as he went. He was patient but Dylan wasn’t, prodding Jordie to just get on with it. 

 

“Let’s get you nice and ready, alright? Not that I think too much of myself or anything, but it will feel a lot better in a couple of minutes instead of right now.” 

 

Dylan thought of Jordie’s dick and felt his own give a bit of a jerk. He dropped his head to the pillow below him. “Okay, okay, keep going,” he said, and Jordie laughed. 

 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, and Dylan intended to hold him to that promise. He relaxed against Jordie’s touches, letting Jordie finger him until he couldn’t help the moans coming from his mouth. 

 

“There we go,” Jordie said, sliding his fingers back out of Dylan. Dylan let his whole body flop forward into the mountain of pillows on the bed, then slowly rolled over. Dylan liked the vulnerable feeling of being on his knees, but he just met Jordie. It felt amazing to be prepped that way, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted Jordie enough to get fucked like that just yet. 

 

“I’ll give it to you. You’re good at that,” Dylan admitted, and Jordie looked down at him, fond. 

 

“I have found it to be a good skill to have in my toolbelt,” he said, and Dylan could hear the end of that sentence without Jordie having to say it. _Because I have a big dick._ “You wanna be on your back, baby?” 

 

Dylan nodded, and Jordie settled himself between Dylan’s legs, taking a moment to run his hands over Dylan’s body, up his chest to his throat, down his arms, from his hips to his knees. Dylan could feel his skin tingle everywhere Jordie touched, his body so keyed up he could burst. 

 

“Fuck, c’mon,” he complained, spreading his legs wider in an invitation. Jordie rolled on a condom and slicked himself up. 

 

Jordie leaned over him, catching his lips in a kiss. “You’ll appreciate this when you come, hard and long, okay? Slow and steady.” He pulled back just enough to line up his dick with Dylan’s hole and pressed in very, very slowly. 

 

Dylan took a deep breath and willed himself to relax. One of Jordie’s big hands scooped up under Dylan’s lower back to give him a little lift, and Dylan’s legs came up to almost wrap around Jordie’s waist. 

 

“That’s it,” Jordie said, placating, as Dylan slowly let him in. Dylan couldn’t speak. He just focused on breathing as Jordie slowly rocked into him, filling him up. Jordie stayed close, hovering over him, the hand on Dylan’s lower back steady and possessive. It made Dylan feel like molten lava. Slowly, Jordie built up a little speed. Dylan held onto Jordie’s neck and shoulders, and Jordie rested his forehead against Dylan’s. 

 

“You feel so good, baby,” Jordie said, and Dylan could only moan, could only scramble out nonsense words, swear words, embarrassing shit he wouldn’t have said if the sex wasn’t as good. If he could have kept his mind together about it at all. 

 

Instead, it was just ‘ _fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck, your dick, fuck, Jordie, fuck,’_ which made Jordie smile, chase his lips for more kisses. 

 

Dylan dropped one hand from Jordie’s neck down to his own dick, getting a hand on himself. He’d lost the amount of time Jordie had been thrusting into him. He’d lost everything. Like the best kind of sex, Dylan couldn’t think of anything except the dick in his ass, the man curled over him, his beard and his tattoos and his lips and his freckles. He was cute and he was sexy and he was _very good_ at what he was doing. 

 

“Fuck, Jordie, I’m close,” he said, barely able to string together those words. Jordie sped up his hips, dipped his lips down to Dylan’s neck to press wet kisses down the side of it as Dylan’s muscles started to tighten. 

 

“That’s right, baby,” Jordie said, and Dylan came, harder and longer than he had in a while. His come was sticky on his chest and Jordie kissed him again, open sloppy kisses as his own orgasm rocked through his body, his moan deep and guttural. His hips thrust through it, and Dylan wanted to keep him close, keep him inside of him forever. 

 

“Don’t,” Dylan started as Jordie began pulling out. 

 

Jordie paused. “I gotta, baby. Condom,” he said, slipping out of Dylan and leaving him feeling empty. Jordie tossed the condom and wiped Dylan down with the corner of the sheet, pressing kisses to his chest as he went. He was just affectionate, and Dylan couldn’t keep his hands off of him. 

 

Jordie nudged Dylan to scoot over a bit, and Dylan slid just far enough for Jordie to lay down next to him. Jordie gathered him up, chest to chest, and flipped the blankets over them. 

 

“Mmmm,” Dylan said, right into Jordie’s neck, feeling as happy and content as he felt was really possible for him. “Okay, you’re right, you’re in charge, I trust you.” 

  
“So that felt good?” Jordie asked. He had one hand on the back of Dylan’s neck, one arm locked tight around his back. Dylan felt really fucking secure.

 

“You fucking saw how good that felt,” Dylan said. “You fishing for compliments here? You’re so good at sex that maybe you should go pro.” 

 

Jordie laughed, short and surprised. “I’ve considered it,” he said, fingers threading through Dylan’s hair. Dylan needed a haircut but he was glad he hadn’t gotten one yet. He felt loose and tingly all over. He kissed Jordie’s collarbone. 

 

“You like it?” 

 

“When you kiss me? Yeah, I fucking like that, baby,” Jordie said. Dylan liked being called baby. Liked being taken care of. Hockey was so much fucking work that it was nice to feel like in this one place in his life, someone else was there to take care of him. 

 

“No, I mean this. Sex work.” 

 

“Oh. Yeah, I do actually. I really like it. I tried it as a bit of an experiment a couple years back, some supplemental income, but now I really enjoy it.” 

 

“What do you like about it?” 

 

“What do you like about paying for it? I like making sure my clients are having the best time I can provide them with. I like getting paid to have sex—I really love sex. I like meeting new people. Making a connection. Sex is so intimate. I like being able to make people feel good, relaxed, loose, comfortable.” 

 

“Safe,” Dylan said, cheeks burning with embarrassment the second it slipped from his mouth. 

 

“I make you feel safe, baby? That is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” Jordie said, touching the tip of his nose to Dylan’s before kissing him again, slowly this time, sweet, without the same heat there had been during sex. It was just affectionate. 

 

“If I paid like, I don’t know, double or something, could you stay the night?” Dylan asked, thinking about how nice it would be to fall asleep next to someone. Someone like Jordie. Usually, he had plenty of fun when he had sex like this - from someone he paid for it. But he didn’t always enjoy the person fucking him beyond the actual act. He liked Jordie though. He seemed so genuine. It was something that was sorely missing in his life. 

 

“Oh, baby boy, I cannot tell you how much I’d like to wake up next to you tomorrow morning,” Jordie said, and Dylan could already hear the rejection in his voice. “I got a pup at home I gotta let out though, I’m so sorry. Give me a little more notice next time and I can arrange someone to take care of him for the night, okay?” 

 

“I can ask for you again?” Dylan said. He hadn’t thought about that possibility before. He’d never had a good enough time to really want a repeat. 

 

“Please do,” Jordie said, and Dylan believed him. That he’d want to fuck him again. “But hey, we still have some time tonight. I’m not leaving yet. Anything you’re dying to do?”

 

“I’m just fucking exhausted. Can we start a movie?” 

 

“Yeah, baby,” Jordie said, grabbing the remote from the side table and flipping channels until Dylan saw something he wanted to watch. It didn’t matter what was on TV though. He was tired and had just had the best orgasm he could remember, cuddled up with someone warm and huge, and Dylan was out like a light. 

 

When he woke up, he was disoriented. The TV was off, and Jordie was pressing kisses to his forehead. 

 

“Hey, baby. I gotta go.” 

 

Dylan groaned, tightened his grip on Jordie for a second before letting him get up. 

 

“Thank you,” he said because he’s a polite Canadian boy if nothing else. 

 

Jordie kissed him again, a lingering goodbye kiss, and Dylan watched him get dressed.

 

“I’m serious,” Jordie said, taking a card from his pocket and slipping it into Dylan’s pants pocket, where they were strewn across a chair. “Ask for me again next time, alright?” 

 

“I’ll see you soon then,” Dylan promised, because fuck if he wasn’t getting fucked by Jordie again. 

 

He had the hotel until the next morning, and he didn’t have practice until eleven. He pulled the covers tight over himself and went to sleep. 

 

\---

 

Jordie didn’t think about clients after their sessions. He had a lot on his mind other than that. He had his dog, Juice, who he got to come home to, and usually some kind of a mess of the got-into-the-garbage-again variety to clean up. 

 

Then there was the issue of his real job—of the job that he thought of as his real job, even if sex work was what paid the bills. Jordie was Philip Ellis, the author of a popular pulp crime series, that the bored dads of North America (and for some surprising reason, overwhelmingly Germany too) liked to buy at the grocery store. 

 

So the next week when Jordie got paged from his agency, his mind should have been on Landon Knight, his crime-solving hero and his latest caper (which he was behind schedule on), but instead it drifted back to the soft wave in Dylan’s brown hair, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. His ass, smooth and perfectly round. Jordie didn’t get to professionally fuck many guys he’d willingly have sex with for free. His main clientele were older guys who wanted to stay married to their wives but still wanted to get fucked by men. But Dylan was exactly his type. 

 

He answered the call, a smile breaking across his face when he heard that Dylan had asked for him again. And again, on short notice—tonight. But this time Jordie had more than an hour to make their appointment so he said yes to the overnight request and started to get Juice ready for a sleepover at his friend’s house. He had a buddy through the agency who also had a dog. They watched each others’ for overnights. He sent a text, checked his watch. 

 

The last time Dylan had scheduled an appointment, he’d been euphoric, high on a win and a goal. It seemed too early for the game to already be over, so Jordie quick googled the Coyotes. Maybe it was a day off. But no, they were right in the middle of their game. Was Dylan scheduling sex in the middle of a fucking hockey game? 

 

Jordie wrapped up his writing session. His current novel was about drug cartels and took place in Arizona. Due to the flexible nature of both of his jobs, he decided to relocate to Arizona to do some research and write in the place his book was set. The first three Landon Knight books had sold respectably, if not amazing, and the book deal he’d received for the next couple had been much larger than he’d received before. 

 

Plus, he needed a change of scenery. 

 

He saved his document and went to shower and trim his beard before dropping off Juice for his sleepover, and heading over to the hotel Cynthia had booked for them that night. 

 

He remembered their first night together. It had been fun and sexy and Jordie was completely in the mood for that again that night. But when he knocked on Dylan’s hotel room door, he was met by Dylan’s scowl, bags under his eyes. He was shaking. 

 

“Hey baby,” Jordie said, closing the door behind him and pulling Dylan to him. “Are you okay?” 

 

Dylan hugged him tight and Jordie rubbed his back, still standing right in the little hallway into the hotel room. Since it was an overnight, Cynthia had booked a suite, and Jordie spied a giant tub in the corner of the room. He loved a good tub. He’d get this sad, upset boy into that tub if it killed him. 

 

Dylan’s rough breathing slowed a little, and he let out a petulant little whine. “I was scratched,” he said, and, oh - Jordie got it. Why he was pissed and upset. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Jordie said, his hand coming up to the back of Dylan’s neck to hold him in place against his shoulder. Jordie had actually watched a couple Coyotes games in the time since they first had sex, and they were doing okay. It was a bit of a thrill to see Dylan on screen, even if he didn’t get much time on ice. 

 

“I’m so frustrated. I feel like I’m doing all the little things I should be doing, but they still don’t trust me. If they would just give me a chance-” he said, cutting himself off with a huff. Jordie could practically feel the negative energy vibrating through Dylan. 

 

“They’re idiots,” Jordie said, not that he actually knew anything about Arizona hockey. He kept up with the Canucks but didn’t look much further than that. 

 

“I just wish. I wish I felt secure in where I was,” Dylan said. He sighed. 

 

“You’ll get there,” Jordie promised, even though it wasn’t his promise to make. “Look at that fucking bathtub. Wanna take a bath? Get relaxed?” 

 

Dylan nodded and took a step back, and Jordie took his face in his hands. “We’re going to have a good night, alright?” and Dylan just nodded. 

 

Jordie walked over to the bath, built into the corner of the hotel room, outside of the bathroom. Jordie never wanted a bath like this in his own house (put it in the bathroom please), but he’d been in enough hotel rooms to know how fucking weird they were sometimes. He sat on the edge of the tub and started the water. Dylan took a seat on the edge of the bed closest to the bath. 

 

“You want something good smelling in this?” Jordie asked, picking through the little bowl of pods next to the bath. They looked like Tide pods but said things like ‘Relax’ and ‘invigorate’ on them. Dylan shrugged. “Alright, I’m going for the one called ‘Relax’ then.” 

 

He tossed the pod under the faucet and the water exploded with the gentle scent of lavender.

 

“That’s nice,” Dylan said, still looking upset and tense. 

 

“C’mere,” Jordie said, holding a hand out for Dylan. Dylan got up and Jordie reeled him in, sitting him on his lap, and nuzzling Dylan’s chest a bit. Dylan clung to his shoulders, and when Jordie tipped his head up, Dylan kissed him. He whined into Jordie’s mouth, and Jordie tightened his grip on Dylan’s waist, keeping him close. 

 

Jordie broke the kiss to test the water. Tubs always seemed to fill so slowly. 

 

“We should probably start getting you naked, huh?” Jordie asked, patting Dylan’s hip so he stood up. 

 

Jordie kissed his cheeks, kissed down his throat, and pulled his t-shirt off. It looked like Dylan had been wearing a suit, the button up and jacket already hanging up, removed before Jordie got there. He dipped his head to kiss Dylan’s chest, then worked in getting his pants off. 

 

Dylan had restless energy, and Jordie let him wrestle Jordie’s own clothes off and paw at him a bit before Jordie looked over at the tub, as full as they would really want it to be when adding two full-grown men to it. 

 

Jordie stepped in and sat down, the water just a little too warm, but he knew it would cool off too quickly for his liking anyway. Good to start hot. He spread his legs and offered Dylan his hand. Dylan climbed in after him, settling between Jordie’s legs, and leaning back against his chest. Jordie pulled him in tight, and Dylan rested his head on Jordie’s shoulder. 

 

Jordie ran his hands up and down Dylan’s chest, down his stomach, and back up. Dylan turned his face to kiss Jordie’s neck, his arms resting on Jordie’s legs. 

 

“You were right,” Dylan said, nose against his neck. “This is really nice.” 

 

“Good,” Jordie said. He just held Dylan tight and let the water wash over them. He kissed Dylan’s cheek, his forehead, felt Dylan’s body fully relax against his. If Dylan wanted to talk, they could talk. But until then, he let the room be quiet and still, until the water started getting cold, and their fingers pruned. 

 

“Time to decide on whether we try to warm the water up, or if it’s time to get out,” Jordie said, and Dylan sighed. 

 

“Kinda want to stay here forever,” he said. “But really, let’s dry off.” 

 

They stood up and got out, grabbing towels from the pile next to the tub. You could tell it was a nice hotel from the quality of the towels. Not scratchy at all. Jordie dried himself off, then used Dylan’s towel to pull him close, the towel around his lower back. Dylan smiled at the dorky move, but to Jordie, that smile felt like a win. 

 

“Love that smile,” Jordie said, leaning in to kiss him. He liked kissing Dylan, liked that Dylan mostly let him lead, but sometimes would surprise him with a lick or a nip he wasn’t expecting. Dylan was smiling, but it just wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. By the end of their night together, that’s what Jordie wanted. His goal. Make Dylan’s smile hit his eyes. 

 

He had Dylan nicely wrapped up in his arms, the towels forgotten on the floor, Dylan’s hands on his chest, warm. Their foreheads were touching. 

 

A lot of times, sex with clients just wasn’t intimate. The guy just wanted to fuck or be fucked. Or maybe he wasn’t ready to allow himself intimacy from a man. Whatever the circumstance, Jordie just didn’t find himself in this situation very often. Where his client clearly needed a friend and wasn’t getting that in his own life. 

 

Being with Dylan was different than that. Jordie could feel the protective part of his heart—the part of his heart that brought home stray animals when he was a kid and begged his mom to let him keep them—ache when he saw Dylan like this. 

 

“Let’s get you feeling good again, alright baby?” he said, sliding his hands down to Dylan’s ass to give it a good squeeze. 

 

“Yes, please,” he said, polite as ever. Some clients always thought they were in charge. Dylan freely gave Jordie control. Jordie liked that. 

 

He also liked Dylan’s ass, thick and strong. Hockey ass. He gave Dylan’s ass a little pat, then pointed to the bed. “Climb up, beautiful.” 

 

“Beautiful?” Dylan said as he climbed up on the bed like he couldn’t quite figure out why Jordie would call him that. 

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Jordie said, voice light and teasing as he crawled up after him, propping himself up over Dylan. “Look at you.” 

 

He saw the blush rise in Dylan’s cheeks, and Jordie could feel something in his gut stir. Not just arousal, but a little crush. Jordie wasn’t sure if he’d ever had a crush on a client before. It felt...maybe a little dangerous. 

 

But also...arousal. The bath had been nice and relaxing, but now that it was done, Jordie had Dylan naked and spread out on the bed for him, and he wasn’t going to take that for granted. He sucked kisses onto Dylan’s neck, then trailed them down his chest, collecting Dylan’s hands in his hair as he went. 

 

When he got to Dylan’s dick, he settled in between his legs, his breath catching as Dylan spread for him, his eyes locked on Jordie from where he was settled against the pillows. “Is this something you want?” Jordie asked. 

 

“Yes,” Dylan breathed. His eyes were so dark, hooded with lust and sadness, and when Jordie took Dylan in his mouth, he watched Dylan’s eyes droop completely closed, his mouth dropping open instead. 

 

Dylan wasn’t fully hard yet, but Jordie loved the feeling of sucking someone hard, the way they grew in your mouth. Dylan’s hands in his hair weren’t the gentlest hands he’d ever had, but his little tugs felt like involuntary responses to what Jordie was currently busy with. 

 

When Dylan was flush and hard, Jordie was there himself, and he pulled off because well, a blowjob is nice, but Dylan could probably go out and get one from a girl if he wanted to, and it would cost him zero dollars. A blowjob wasn’t why he was here. 

 

He told Dylan to hold tight for a second and went to find his bag that he’d left at the door to grab lube and condoms. When he got back to the bed, Dylan was on his stomach, his ass in the air, his head resting on his crossed arms in front of him, hair a little wild and messy. 

 

Yeah. Not here for a blowjob. 

 

Jordie was naturally a little chatty during sex, so he talked while he eased Dylan open, just little encouragements, anything he could do to get Dylan to reply, or laugh, or moan. He found Dylan’s prostate easily and spent maybe a little more time on prep than he normally would, just to keep hearing the sounds that were coming out of Dylan’s mouth. He wasn’t begging for it like last time, and Jordie took that as a sign that Dylan trusted him to know what he was doing now. And he liked that. 

 

“You want to turn over, or do you want it like this?” Jordie asked, since Dylan had flipped himself over last time. 

 

“Like this,” Dylan said, throwing a glance over his shoulder that made Jordie’s heart ache. He looked wrung out, and not in a good way. 

 

“Yeah, baby, we can do that,” Jordie said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. He rolled on a condom and got slicked up, running his hands up and down Dylan’s thighs before rearranging enough to get his knees on either side of Dylan’s legs and line himself up to push in. 

 

He watched Dylan, the look on his face where it was laying on the pillow below him. The rhythm of his breathing. His hands, making fists in the sheets. He went slow, bending over Dylan to press kisses to his shoulders, the back of his neck, his cheeks. 

 

Slowly, Jordie settled in against Dylan’s ass, and Dylan’s breathing evened. He took a deep breath and nodded to Jordie to give him the go-ahead. 

 

Jordie went slow, taking his time to set a slow, grinding rhythm, the position Dylan was in feeling particularly good for him as well. This position wasn’t as good for kissing, but Jordie let almost nothing prevent him from at least trying to kiss who he was fucking, and Dylan’s face was already tipped to the side a bit. He dipped down to press his lips to Dylan’s, and Dylan whined against his mouth, pressing up on his arms enough to get closer to Jordie. 

 

Jordie couldn't help it. He slipped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders to hold him in place and get a better angle to kiss him. Dylan lost all coordination in his lips, and for a moment, they were just breathing the same air, as Jordie kept thrusting into him, Dylan punctuating each thrust with a moan. 

 

Any sounds motivated Jordie. Gasps, moans, babbling. Dylan was vocal, and there was nothing more encouraging to Jordie. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, _daddy_ ,” Dylan groaned, and Jordie’s hips stuttered just once before he regained composure. 

 

Cause fuck, he liked that. 

 

“That’s it, baby boy, I got you,” Jordie said, his face in Dylan’s neck as he held on tight. One of Dylan’s hands grabbed for the hand Jordie had pressed to his chest, keeping them solidly together, and the other dropped down to get a hand on his own dick. 

 

Dylan’s hand worked fast, and before Jordie knew it, Dylan was groaning, another ‘daddy’ on his lips as he came, hard and gasping. Jordie let him take a couple breaths before pulling out. He slid his condom off and flipped Dylan onto his back, jerking himself the few more strokes he needed in order to come on Dylan’s stomach. He looked...Jordie could hardly look at him, his Arizona-tanned skin with come dripping off of him. 

 

Dylan pulled him back to him, fit their lips together again. He was trembling, and Jordie eased his weight down onto Dylan to anchor him. 

 

“That was,” Dylan started, still breathing hard. He had both hands on Jordie’s neck, holding him tight like he might drift away. 

 

“Yeah,” Jordie agreed, not being able to help the smile on his face. Rarely was his job so satisfying. 

 

“I um, don’t know where the uh, daddy thing came from,” Dylan said, not able to meet Jordie’s eyes. 

 

“Fuck, that was hot.” 

  
“Really?”

 

“I almost came when you called me that.”

 

Dylan’s blush deepened, but it was different now, a little pleased. He was so fucking cute. The slope of his nose, his round cheeks, his eyebrows, that smile. Jordie kissed his cheek. 

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, how ‘bout that?” he said, heading to the bathroom for a damp towel. When he came back, he made sure Dylan was no longer sticky, and climbed back in bed with him, pulling the sheets over them. Dylan fit against him like something familiar, and Jordie supposed he kind of was now. He pushed his damp hair off his forehead, where it was curling a bit. 

 

“Can we get food?” Dylan asked, and Jordie chuckled a bit. 

 

“It’s your show, babe. We can order food.” 

 

Dylan leaned over Jordie to the side table where the room service menu was, and they scanned it together before Dylan called the front desk with their order. Dylan made sure Jordie knew he could have anything, which Jordie felt was particularly sweet. He knew Dylan made more money than he did. He’d googled him, alright? He knew Dylan’s salary. Still, he appreciated the gesture. 

 

While they waited for their food, they just cuddled, Jordie running his hands up and down Dylan’s back while Dylan told him about Arizona and living in a house filled with boys his age with an ambition for the same exact goal. 

 

“That sounds like...a lot,” Jordie said. He didn’t know exactly what he could say. But Dylan nodded into his chest. 

 

“You said you were a writer. What do you write?” Dylan asked. Jordie smiled. Dylan had remembered. 

 

“I write crime novels,” Jordie said. “The kind that your dad probably reads.” 

 

“Like my dad reads books,” Dylan said laughing. “Anything I’ve heard of?”

 

“Maybe. Do you read books?” Jordie asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

Dylan laughed again, and there—there it was. His laughter reaching his eyes, even if he admitted that no, he didn’t exactly...read. He got these little dimples when he smiled with his whole face. Those crush feelings kept blooming in Jordie’s gut. 

 

“I write the Landon Knight books,” Jordie said. “They made a movie off the first one. _Never Say Blood.”_

 

“You wrote _Never Say Blood_? I saw that.” Dylan said, smile animated now, hockey forgotten. He was beautiful when he was happy. Jordie wanted nothing more than this. So much of this. 

 

“I mean, I didn’t write the screenplay for the movie. The book is a little different, but yeah. I wrote that.” 

 

“And…” Jordie could see the wheels spinning in Dylan’s head. _Your book got made into a movie and here you are, sleeping with people for money._

 

“Yeah,” Jordie said. “And I’m not like, set for life. My original contract for that novel was pretty small. The option for the movie rights wasn’t tiny, but I still need to have a job. Or, really, I like having something outside of writing. And I could have a regular job, I guess. But I like doing this. It’s easy on the writing schedule. Pays better than working in an office. It’s working out pretty well in my favor right now if you ask me.” 

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, and there was a knock on their door. Their food was there. Dylan got up and put underwear on to go get it, and Jordie slipped his underwear back on too. They ate on the bed, the TV playing reruns of Friends. 

 

Jordie got a burger and sweet potato fries, and Dylan got steak and mashed potatoes, and they traded potato bites, Dylan jealous of his fries.

 

Jordie used a French fry to point at the TV. “Okay, Friends. Who would you fuck: Ross, Joey, or Chandler?”

 

“Shit,” Dylan said. “I’m not sure I’d fuck any of them.” 

 

Jordie nudged him with his shoulder. “You don’t actually have to. Theoretically.” 

 

“Yeah I know I don’t ACTUALLY have to fuck any of them, thank you SO MUCH for clarifying,” he said. 

 

“Okay like, for me, Ross would be insufferable. And he’d like, put it on his tally sheet. Gross. Chandler would be either too self-conscious or anxious about the whole thing to even go through with it. But Joey. Joey would be fun. Make you feel appreciated in the very least, if not even loved.” 

 

“Oh my god how much have you thought about this?” Dylan asked. He put a bite of steak and potatoes in his mouth, and there was something so much lighter about his disposition now than it had been when Jordie had shown up. 

 

Jordie brushed his hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “Unsurprisingly I think about fucking people a lot,” Jordie said, shrugging. Didn’t everyone?

 

“Fair,” Dylan said. “Maybe Rachel.”

 

“Rachel?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not attracted to women, but I feel like Rachel would be the Friend with the fewest surprises. Give it to her missionary and get out of there.” 

 

It said a lot about the two of them, their choices. Jordie wanted a lover. Dylan just didn’t want any surprises. Something steady. 

 

They finished their meal and Jordie manhandled Dylan into settling between his legs, the way they had been in the tub. “I’m having a really good night,” Jordie said. It was true. Spending time with Dylan...fuck. He _liked_ him. He hadn’t felt this way about a person in a while. 

 

Dylan flipped over so he could rest his head on Jordie’s chest, the bulk of him between Jordie’s legs. “I am too,” he said, and Jordie scratched through his hair, getting a little appreciative purr from him. 

 

It was late, almost one, and even though Dylan hadn’t played a hockey game that night, he was still tired. Jordie wondered about the demands of being a professional athlete. How much did Dylan usually sleep? 

 

“Time to get tucked in?” Jordie asked, and Dylan grumbled a complaint but shifted to lay beside Jordie. Jordie got up to switch the lights off, and when he came back to bed, Dylan was already reaching for him from under the covers. 

 

Dylan was warm and sleepy, and Jordie pushed him into his back to kiss him and kiss him, lazy open kisses that Dylan sighed into, his mouth soft from all the kissing they had already accomplished that night. 

 

“Thank you for staying,” Dylan said when Jordie finally pulled away. 

 

“Of course, baby.” Jordie pulled him close, tucked him up under his chin, and Dylan laughed and had to push some beard out of his face. 

 

“Hazards of the beard.” 

 

“I guess I’ll take it,” Dylan said as they got comfortably settled together. 

 

—-

 

In the morning, Dylan woke to the sound of the air conditioner in the room switching on. He was on his back, pinned by a muscular redhead that he was starting to have some real, actual feelings for. It scared the shit out of him. 

 

He remembered how awful he’d felt when he’d texted Jordie’s agency from the press box halfway through the game the night before, how crabby he’d been when Jordie got there. 

 

But Jordie just carefully took him apart piece by piece and put him back together, and by the end of the night, he was considering taking Jordie’s last name when they got married. He didn’t even know what Jordie’s last name _was_. 

 

The sheets had shifted off of them in the night and Dylan pulled them back onto them, feeling the chill from the A/C. Jordie stirred and nuzzled into Dylan’s chest a bit. When he looked up at Dylan, an easy happy smile bloomed across his face. 

 

“G’morning,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. Jordie’s eyes were hooded, and his lips were parted, and when he shifted his hips a little, Dylan realized he was hard. They both were. 

 

“Morning,” Dylan said back, rolling his hips up to meet Jordie’s. Jordie’s smile twisted from something bright and happy to something dirty. 

 

“Good morning for sure,” he said, tucking his head into Dylan’s neck to suck open-mouthed kisses onto the skin there as they rolled their hips together, the hotel room just soft gasps and the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Dylan was warm and happy when he came, Jordie’s hand down the front of his boxers. 

 

Jordie’s eyes were dark with residual lust as they both caught their breaths, and Dylan could only laugh at how fucking good he felt. How nice it was to be right here, with this guy he was basically renting access to. 

 

“I’d quit hockey right now if I could just stay here with you forever.” 

 

Jordie hummed, kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t mean that,” he said softly, and it sounded like he was letting Dylan down gently. 

 

“No, I don’t,” Dylan said with a heavy sigh. “Fucking life-long dreams.” 

 

Now it was Jordie who laughed. “Yeah. You’re gonna show ‘em, alright? And after you show ‘em, you’ll call me and we’ll have a good time, okay?” 

 

Dylan took Jordie’s hand in his, laced their fingers together. “I’d like that,” he said. 

 

\---

 

When he got back to his house, Chych was in the backyard by the pool with his new tiny dog. 

 

“Must have had a good night,” he said, eyebrow raised. 

 

“Something like that,” Dylan said. Chych didn’t chase. He was surprisingly uninterested in gossip. Dylan guessed that’s what happens when you’re only concerned with yourself, really. It’s what made Chych one of his favorite people to be around. Genuinely not at all curious about other people. Dylan wondered how he maintained his other relationships. 

 

It stood in stark relief to being friends with Mitch Marner for so long. 

 

He headed up to his room to change and get ready for practice. He’d showered that morning - they had showered, Jordie’s big hands all over his body, gentle as he washed Dylan’s hair. Now here, alone in his room, Dylan felt a heavy absence in his life. Would it be easier to be a hockey player if you had a girlfriend who was just kind of...there in the background? Doing your laundry and holding you after a loss. Being there to celebrate when you win. 

 

Dylan didn’t think he wanted that. He wasn’t looking for another thing in his life to tend to and take care of. He was just getting passable at taking care of himself, and that was even a pretty big struggle on some days. 

 

But when he thought about Jordie—well, Dylan would want to come home to Jordie. Even if it was work. 

 

\--

 

The third time Dylan scheduled a date with Jordie, it was a full twenty-four hours before he wanted to see him. Or, a full 24 hours before Jordie _could_ see him. Jordie had another client the night Dylan had actually requested, so Cynthia scheduled Jordie for a back-to-back. At least the guy he’d been with the night before Dylan wasn’t an overnight. He always felt guilty doing that to Juice two nights in a row. 

 

The other guy, the one who he’d been with when Dylan had called for a date with him, was a repeat customer. Kent was in his forties and was a perfectly nice guy. He had two kids who he never shut up about though, and it made Jordie feel a bit awkward. He very much still loved his wife but needed something more. He was pretty happy, for married gay guys honestly. He wasn’t a repeat Jordie dreaded. 

 

Still, he spent the entire time thinking about how he’d rather be with Dylan. How he’d rather hear Dylan’s breathy moans instead of Kent’s complete silence. How he would rather spend the time after the finished talking about hockey and television instead of a violin recital his client’s kids were in. 

 

When he got back to his car in the hotel parking lot, he checked his messages and felt an almost physical feeling of relief when he saw Dylan was on his schedule. 

 

He beat Dylan to the hotel for the first time and made sure the front desk kept one of the door keys for Dylan. He took his shoes off and organized his supplies on the side table and texted his buddy a little about Juice before he heard a key in the door and turned his phone off for the night. 

 

Dylan was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and was by far more casual than Jordie had ever seen him before. But he’d checked the Coyotes’ schedule for that night. They had a day off. Still, he looked a little far from being happy. 

 

“Babe,” Jordie said, standing up from the couch in the suite’s entryway to greet him. He had clearly tried to make his hair look nice with some product, but Jordie could see the natural wave of it, and that’s what he liked the most. It was still sexy. He cupped the side of Dylan’s face and felt Dylan’s hands settle on his hips. 

 

“Hey,” he said, finding a smile for him. “Man, it is so good to see you.” 

 

“Ditto,” Jordie said. He kissed him, short and sweet, just a hello, before Dylan pulled him closed, pressed back into the kiss for more. 

 

“Hello to you too,” Jordie said when Dylan pulled away. He looked a little less morose already. 

 

“Jesus, I can’t believe how much better I feel, just kissing you,” Dylan said. Jordie worried about him. Worried about Dylan being driftless, worried about him being anxious or too frustrated. He worried about Dylan, who was so young, giving so much of himself to something that didn’t love him back. 

 

He just worried a lot. 

 

“Tell me about you,” Jordie said, pulling Dylan over to the couch. He sat, and pulled Dylan onto his lap. 

 

“Just feeling a thousand shades of not good enough, you know? My roommate just came back from an injury and it was like, such a big deal. Meanwhile, I’m just getting lecture after lecture about how I need to up my game. And then I play well, and I get rewarded with fewer minutes next game. I don’t get it.” 

 

Dylan very clearly had a lot to get off his chest. Jordie just mhmm’d as Dylan talked. He rubbed his back, feeling the strong musculature of it through the cotton of his t-shirt, and heard all about his coaches and his teammates, and living in Arizona which was like, the exact opposite of Ontario. 

 

“I hear you. It’s hard being away from home,” Jordie said, and Dylan’s furrow in his brow just deepened when he nodded in agreement. 

 

“We get to play in Toronto once this year,” Dylan said. “One of my friends was drafted there and I have never been more jealous in my life.” 

 

“It’s not out of the question that you could end up in Toronto one day,” Jordie said. 

 

Dylan laughed. “You are such a fucking optimist,” he said, and Jordie couldn’t really argue with that. 

 

Dylan bit his lip as he looked at Jordie, something in his eyes changing. He shifted to straddle Jordie, and the talking part of saying hi had officially ended. He just let Dylan kiss him however he wanted, which was long and slow and a little sloppier than Jordie probably would have wanted. But it was Dylan, so it was good. 

 

Jordie just held on tight, hands on his waist. He let his fingers trail up Dylan’s back, his smooth skin under his shirt. He threaded his fingers through Dylan’s hair at the back of his neck and held him in place, listened to him whimper at the slightest restraint. 

 

He slipped his other hand down the back of Dylan’s shorts and under the elastic of his underwear and he made the best noise Jordie had ever heard, strangled and surprised. He gave the muscle of his ass a squeeze. 

 

“Damn,” Jordie said, as Dylan pulled away a little to catch his breath. “You have the best ass.” 

 

“Well, my hockey career isn’t for nothing then,” he said, and Jordie smiled at his joke, watched amusement play across his eyes. 

 

“Should we get you to bed?” Jordie asked. Dylan nodded. Jordie knew how much Dylan weighed. And honestly, he kind of had some good practice at this move. He got both his hands under Dylan’s ass and shifted his weight enough to stand up, Dylan in his arms. 

 

“Fuckin’ ballsy,” Dylan said as Jordie carried him the handful of steps over to the bed, where he tossed him down. Dylan laughed as he bounced on the bed. 

 

“Tricks of the trade,” Jordie said and watched Dylan’s smile falter a bit at the mention of his job. They’d joked about it before, so Jordie thought it would be fair game. But apparently not anymore. “Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

 

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry,” Dylan said, covering his face with a hand for a second. When he dropped it, he scooted back on the bed. “C’mere.” 

 

Jordie climbed onto the bed, blanketed Dylan with his body. He combed Dylan’s hair off his forehead and just let Dylan soak him up a bit. 

 

“It was really fucking hot,” Dylan said. “When you picked me up. I like how strong you are.” Dylan’s hands ran down Jordie’s arms, squeezed his biceps. He flexed a little just to show off, and he could feel how into it Dylan was, could feel him getting hard. 

 

“Tonight is just some muscle appreciation, then,” Jordie said, sliding a hand down to squeeze Dylan’s ass again. Dylan smiled, and everything just devolved into kissing and taking off each other’s clothes, and trying to make Dylan laugh. 

 

It was a bit of a tussle, and when they were both finally naked, Dylan was seated on top of Jordie, a pretty flush on his cheeks, his dick nice and hard. Jordie gripped his hips again. He liked how solid Dylan was. He was heavy because of muscle, and it showed. He just had a nice body. 

 

“Would you be into riding me?” Jordie asked. If Dylan wasn’t his client, he would have proposed the idea a little differently. A conversation rather than a yes or no answer. But this was Dylan’s show, and as much as he wanted to see Dylan bounce on his dick, if Dylan wasn’t into it, they’d do what he wanted instead. 

 

“What?” Dylan asked, looking dazed from even the question, like his brain shorted out. “Ride you? Yes. _Yes_.” 

 

Jordie just pulled him down into a kiss, listened to the very quiet beginnings of all the sounds Dylan was going to make before he came. Fuck, Jordie was into this boy. 

 

Jordie held Dylan to him with one hand and grabbed the lube with the other. He felt Dylan squirm on top of him as he worked him open, felt him gasp in his mouth. Dylan rolled his hips back onto Jordie’s fingers, and Jordie just had some pretty fucking high hopes for what that would feel like when he had his dick buried in Dylan. 

 

Dylan reached over to the nightstand for a condom and pressed it into Jordie’s hand. A heavy hint. 

 

“Okay, yeah, yeah,” Jordie said. Dylan had a happy flush across his cheeks and his chest. He was practically glowing, and Jordie couldn’t believe how good it made him feel just to see Dylan look happy like that. 

 

He opened the condom and got himself ready while Dylan watched his face, bottom lip between his teeth. 

 

“Alright, you ready to go?” Jordie asked, and Dylan grinned at him. 

 

He took a breath and grabbed Jordie’s dick in order to line it up. Then he sank back, his eyes fluttering closed in concentration. 

 

“Fuck,” Dylan said, letting out his breath as he settled on Jordie. 

 

“You feel so good I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Jordie admitted. 

 

“We can always go again,” Dylan said, and yeah. Yeah, they could. 

 

Dylan started to move, his hands on Jordie’s chest for balance, and Jordie’s hands went to Dylan’s thighs, the muscles in them working hard. He got a little rhythm going before he started rolling his hips, his mouth open and gasping. 

 

He was going slow and it felt so fucking good. Jordie had to very consciously not grab onto his hips to hold him in place and jackrabbit up into him. 

 

Dylan stretched over him, leaning down to kiss Jordie as he kept moving his hips. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” Jordie said, right into their kiss. 

 

Dylan pulled away from Jordie’s lips just enough to look him in the eyes. The eye contact was intense, and Jordie gripped Dylan’s hips just enough to jackhammer up into him a few times, rough and fast. 

 

“Yes, _daddy_ ,” Dylan said, voice hoarse and deep, and that was it for Jordie. He wrapped an arm around Dylan’s lower back so he could flip him over. Dylan held tight to Jordie’s neck, and Jordie let him have it, strong, sure thrusts that were making Dylan gasp and babble, nothing sensible. 

 

Jordie tucked his face into Dylan’s neck as he thrust into him. “I fucking love when you call me that, baby.” 

 

“Daddy,” Dylan moaned again, his fingernails biting the tops of Jordie’s shoulders. Jordie reached between them, getting a hand on Dylan’s dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Dylan felt so good, and sounded so good that Jordie knew it wouldn’t last long. Dylan reached down to grab his dick instead, and Jordie left him to it, holding onto his hips instead so he could fuck Dylan hard and fast. 

 

His orgasm came suddenly, and Dylan’s hand sped up on his dick, getting himself there not long after Jordie, clenching down on Jordie in a way that made him see stars. He pulled out and dropped his head to Dylan’s chest, trying to catch his breath. 

 

Dylan’s hands were clumsy as they combed through Jordie’s hair, but it was a gentle, sweet touch. 

 

“How is it better every time?” Dylan asked, a bit of incredulity in his voice. 

 

“Chemistry,” Jordie said, looking up at him. “Practice.” 

 

Dylan raised an eyebrow at him but smiled a lazy, relaxed smile. “Makes me want to go again like, right now.” 

 

“I mean, I could suck you off if you could get it up, but you’d have to give me a little more time if you want anything that involves my dick being hard.” 

 

“Naw, I mean, you did a pretty thorough job right there. Don’t think I’m not feeling pretty fucking satisfied,” Dylan clarified. 

 

“I hear you. I want more too,” Jordie said. He kissed Dylan, felt Dylan’s hands on the back of his neck, his shoulders. Lazy post-sex kisses that turned into cuddling. 

 

“Can we take another bath?” Dylan asked. He was still sticky with come, and a bath sounded nice right then. “We can watch TV and just relax?” 

 

“You’re speaking my language,” Jordie said. He got up to start filling the tub—new hotel, same weird tub-in-the-main-room situation—and just sat on the edge of the tub, taking in the sight of Dylan, naked and tangled up in the sheets, sex-rumpled, looking back at him. He could see the expanse of Dylan’s collarbones, and he wanted to put his mouth there. Wanted to mark him up. 

 

He wanted this always. Dylan in his bed by default, in whatever state of undress, lazily giving him that look he was giving him. 

 

They spent the rest of the night in the tub, soaking until they pruned up, or cuddled in bed, a ton of room service food around them. Jordie thought they spent maybe one collective minute where they weren’t touching. 

 

“You have a game tomorrow?” Jordie asked as it got later, with Dylan tucked against him. He was pretty sure that Dylan did. A road game, if he remembered correctly. 

 

“Yeah. We fly to Nashville after skate in the morning.” 

 

“I’m going to miss you,” Jordie said. One thing Jordie never gave clients was his actual feelings. As far as Jordie was concerned, when he was with a client, he was acting. But for whatever reason, he had never been able to hold crap like this back from Dylan. 

 

“Ugh, same. I wish you could come with me,” Dylan said. 

 

Jordie got an idea. Maybe it was a terrible idea. Maybe he’d completely regret it. But...maybe it would be great. “What if. You can say no to this. But what if I gave you my number. And if you get bored or lonely or whatever, you can text me, or call me or something.” 

 

Jordie had literally had his dick inside of Dylan on several occasions, but he was still worried about rejection. He wasn’t offering Dylan his dick. Or orgasms. Or kisses or cuddles. He was just offering...talking sometimes. 

 

“Really?” Dylan asked, voice suddenly small and kind of precious. 

 

“Yeah. And then we wouldn’t have to miss each other so much.” 

 

“I’d like that a lot,” Dylan said. And Jordie knew he must look stupid for the huge smile on his face but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the weird butterflies in his stomach either. 

 

\--

 

When Jordie finally did have to call an end to their time the next morning, he programmed his number into Dylan’s phone. 

 

Dylan wasn’t sure what it meant. Did Jordie do this regularly? Was it normal? Was this just what happened when you started seeing the same sex worker over and over? 

 

Still, Dylan was grateful to have his number the next day in Nashville. 

 

The goal from the game before that Dylan had assisted on had been disallowed because he was offside, and he’d been captured very obviously on camera yelling _FUCK_. So healthy scratched he found himself again. 

 

He was in the press box at Bridgestone fiddling with his phone. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be paying attention to the game. But there was a stoppage in play to shovel and deliver television commercials to the Folks At Home, so he opened up his messages, found Jordie’s number, and composed a short message. 

 

_Scratched again. Feeling shitty. How’s AZ?_

 

It was...a dumb message. What the fuck was Jordie supposed to do about it? Come down here and suck his dick? He felt a little stupid about it, but Jordie had impressed how much he’d enjoy hearing from Dylan outside of the official time they had together, and like, Dylan wasn’t like, an expert at paying folks for sex but he thought that was maybe not always part of the deal. 

 

Or maybe it was just like, marketing. Keep your customer coming back. 

 

Dylan had no idea. He just knew that when his phone buzzed in his hand, he felt his heart jump before he even looked at Jordie’s response. 

 

_That fucking sucks. Arizona is hot. Getting some writing done._

 

Then Dylan’s phone buzzed again, a picture message this time. It was Jordie in his bed, the top of his laptop visible, over which Dylan could see Jordie’s bare legs, spread so that his caramel-colored dog could fit, a curled up little donut of a dog, between them. It was sweet and intimate, and just very...Jordie. 

 

_What’s your dog’s name? He’s cute._

 

_Juice. He’s a good boy. He was found in a box on the side of the road. Can’t imagine who would ever have given him up._

 

Dylan didn’t personally go around adopting dogs found at the side of the road, but he was a dog person. That summer he’d found a lost dog in his neighborhood and walked it around until they found the owner. He liked that Jordie had that softness to his heart. 

 

_I miss my dog. My parent’s dog, I guess. My family dog. Oscar._ Dylan said. 

 

 _Maybe you’ll have to meet Juice then._ Jordie said, and. What?  
  
Dylan did best with people who were pretty direct with their feelings. So much of his brain was taken up with hockey that it could be hard to sit there and pick on all the nuances in a relationship between two people. But like. That was fucking flirting, right?

 

_I’d love to meet Juice._

 

_Call me after your game?_ Jordie asked. And Dylan said yes. 

 

\---

 

Jordie was just feeling like he’d used up the last vestiges of his creative energy for the day, and though it might be time to start tackling his email inbox when his phone rang, Dylan’s number.

 

“Hey, baby,” he answered, closing his laptop and sliding it to the other side of the bed. Juice was annoyed by the disturbance and hopped off the bed to go search for a different place to nap.

 

“Hey,” he said, voice quiet. 

 

“You guys won your game,” Jordie said, trying to find some silver lining for the situation. 

 

“Because I wasn’t on the ice,” Dylan said, sighing. Jordie wanted to be there to wrap him up in his arms, kiss his forehead. 

 

“Hey now,” Jordie said, curling up on his side on his bed and pulling the covers over him. He was tired, even though it was early. He was glad he didn’t have a client that night. 

 

“Everyone is out celebrating and I’m...just sitting in my hotel room, glad that my roommate scored so he’ll be out getting drunk for a while.” He laughed, a dark, self-deprecating

laugh. It hurt Jordie’s heart. 

 

“I’m glad you called me,” Jordie said, and he was. He’d been thinking about Dylan but didn’t want to be the one who contacted him first. 

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked. 

 

“Of course. I wanted you to call. It’s nice hearing your voice.” 

 

“I don’t really know what the rules are here,” Dylan admitted. 

 

Jordie wasn’t sure either. “Honestly, you’re the first client of mine I’ve ever given my actual contact information to, so I’m kind of flying by the seat of my pants here too.” 

 

“Seriously?” Dylan asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Jordie admitted. “I like being around you. I figured it would be nice to hear from you sometimes. Especially since you travel so much.” 

 

“I didn’t feel like I had anyone else to call,” Dylan said. “All my friends are hockey players and like, I’m friends with really good hockey players. They don’t get it. I don’t think Mitch has ever been scratched.”

 

“Well you can talk to me about it,” Jordie said. 

 

“Do you want to-” Dylan started, then stopped himself. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Can we Facetime?” 

 

Something in Jordie’s heart bloomed. “Please,” he said, and Dylan Facetimed him. His hair was messy, his hotel room was poorly lit, but there he was, a little smile creeping up on his face, leaving tiny little dimples in the creases of his smile. Jordie wanted to kiss them. He just wanted to kiss Dylan. 

 

Jordie was shirtless because it was Arizona and he was a Canadian boy. He sat up to get more of his face in frame, and Dylan took a sharp breath. 

 

“I kind of. I kind of miss you,” Dylan admitted. 

 

“The feeling is mutual, baby,” Jordie said. 

 

He was supposed to be thinking about all of the ways that Landon Knight could be thwarting a drug cartel in Arizona, but he was just thinking of the way the crew neck of Dylan’s t-shirt was all stretched out, revealing his collarbone. Jordie had left kisses he’d wanted to be marks there the last time they had been together.

 

“When am I going to see you next?” Jordie asked. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to schedule anything out with Dylan, like, officially. He kind of wanted to see what it could be like...without the layer of business. 

 

“I get home in three days,” Dylan said. He was softening, just talking to Jordie. 

 

“I can’t wait.” 

  
“Tell me more about your dog,” Dylan said, sinking back into his pillows, and Jordie talked.

 

It was sweet, telling Dylan about Juice, and how big of a pain he was as a puppy, but how he’s good and mellow now. And Dylan told him about their family dog and about the dog his older brother has. A golden. 

 

Dylan told him about growing up in Mississauga, and Jordie told him a little about growing up on the island. Dylan asked cute questions like “how did you buy groceries,” like Victoria Island was something they were stranded on or something. 

 

It was sweet and comfortable. And finally, Kells came back to their room, a little drunk, and Dylan had to hang up pretty quickly. 

 

_Sorry. Um, not about to tell my roommate about the cute boy I was talking to. Sorry I hung up so quickly._

 

And then they texted for another hour and a half. 

 

\---

 

Dylan sat next to Crouser on the flight to Saint Louis. It wasn’t a long flight, mercifully. Dylan liked Lawson, but he already lived with him. 

 

Still, he thought Lawson might be the smartest (lord help him) of his roommates, so when Lawson brought up Dylan’s recent...preoccupation…Dylan decided to just talk about it. 

 

“Chych said you’ve been getting your dick wet lately,” Crouser says. As good of an opening to a conversation about feelings as he was going to get, though he had a hard time imagining Jakob talking about him when he wasn’t in his presence. 

 

“Um, yeah,” Dylan said. “I’ve been seeing a...girl. A few times now. And I think I like her.” 

 

“Nice, dude.” 

 

“I’m just not sure what to do next. Like. She lives in Arizona.” 

 

“So do you,” Lawson observed. 

 

Dylan laughed. “I mean, yeah. It just feels like. What if something happens? I like her. I want to keep seeing her. But.” It was fucking with Dylan’s head to keep referring to Jordie as ‘her.’ What he would give to feel like he could trust his friends enough to just tell them about the fucking lumberjack he had the hots for. 

 

“Then keep seeing her. And if you really want her to know you like her, suck on her clit.” 

 

“What?” Dylan was not anticipating discussing cunnilingus at all during this conversation. 

 

“Yeah, dude. Just get your face down there and put some minutes up. Show her how friendly your tongue is. Go slower than you ever thought was possible. Just get sloppy, make her drip a puddle under her ass, just-” 

 

“Fuck, Crouser, I wasn’t asking for sex advice.” 

 

“I’m just saying, the way to a woman’s heart is directly through her clit. Trust me.” And like, Lawson’s girl was cool, and they did seem to like each other. 

 

But seriously. These were his friends? He sighed. Though...committing to some quality oral sex wasn’t the worst advice he’d ever gotten from a straight boy before. And he’d never gone down on Jordie before. 

 

 

\---

 

Jordie took stock of his house. He was renting a little two bedroom ranch from some folks who lived in Arizona part-time. It was furnished, and Jordie appreciated that. He liked using their immersion blender and sleeping on their expensive sheets. He missed some of the comforts of his own home in BC, but when his lease had come up to renew, he thought he could use a change of scenery. Maybe some sunshine. He’d sold a lot of what he owned, put the rest in storage. 

 

He was planning on going back to Vancouver when his six months in the states came to an end. Maybe buy a house this time. Maybe live closer to his family. His sister just had a baby. He missed her. 

 

It wasn’t the time to fall in love. It wasn’t the time to get emotionally invested in a boy. A boy who lived in Arizona. A boy who lived in the states. 

 

A boy who was very deeply in the closet, with no plans of coming out, that Jordie could tell. 

 

It felt like a mess. It felt like poking a beehive. A wasp’s nest. 

 

And yet...being with Dylan made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. Jordie had been single for so long, he hardly remembered what it felt like to have someone who made your heart race with a single text message. Someone who you thought of before you fell asleep at night, and first thing in the morning too. Someone who sent silly selfies and photos of the food they were eating, just to make you feel like you were there with them. 

 

In the days since Dylan’s first phone call, they’d been in contact what felt like constantly. Jordie practically knew what brand toothpaste Dylan used at this point. Knew his Fortnite habits, knew his favorite shoes. Knew what he was self-conscious about. 

 

Being with Dylan, just the three times he had seen him, felt more like first dates than the time he spent with any other clients he’d had. They had been emotional and intense and very sexually gratifying, and Jordie just wanted to see him again. 

 

But he didn’t think he could see Dylan again as a client. As a client, sex was the job. Making that person feel good was the job. And in order to do that, you had to hide part of yourself. Keep part of yourself private and safe. Keep what you liked from sex, and intimacy, and kissing, and whatever to yourself. 

 

Jordie didn’t want to keep any part of himself from Dylan anymore. 

 

He also wasn’t particularly interested in continuing to accept clients, when his heart was so messed up over Dylan. Plus, he was slammed with work. He was trying to work up a proposal for the next two Landon Knight novels, which he would hopefully be able to sell to his publisher, to get some books on the books, so to speak. If he sold these books for a good chunk of change, he could take some time off of sex work. Focus on writing. 

 

He took a deep breath. He was in his kitchen, a small but light and airy space where he spent a lot of his time. He’d made the second bedroom of the house into a bit of an office space, but he spent most of his writing time at his kitchen table, since it was closest to Juice’s favorite nap spot. And snacks. 

 

He had his research doc in front of him, but he couldn’t focus. He dialed his brother. He’d never had anything in his life he couldn’t tell his brother about. Jamie was the only person in his family who knew about his “second job” as Jamie called it. 

 

“And you like...like him,” Jamie said after Jordie had laid out his current situation.

 

“Yeah, Jame. I am really into him.”

 

“Well, then what can you even do about that? I hope he feels the same way.” 

 

“My visa is up soon.” 

 

“Oh, fuck.” Jamie wasn’t exactly a poet. But neither was Jordie. 

 

“Well, if you need, I can always watch Juice. You know he’s my favorite nephew.” 

 

“Thanks, dude. Just. Wanted to say it out loud I guess.” 

 

They spent the rest of the call talking about their niece who they were both obsessed with, and when they hung up, Jordie thought he might have a little more clarity on the situation.

 

He called up his agency and let them know that he didn’t want to take clients for the time being. He didn’t put a firm ending on it. Just explained he was crazy busy with work. It wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he’d start up again in a few weeks. Maybe he’d move back to Canada by then. Who knew.

 

He stood up to pour out some of the cold press he’d made the day before into a glass and diluted it a bit from its concentrated state. His addiction to cold press coffee was a detail about himself he’d given Landon Knight. When he felt lost writing, he got some coffee in his main character’s hands. It made him feel connected. Grounded. He sat back down to write. 

 

\---

 

Coming back from the roadtrip was the first time Dylan had ever felt like he was coming home. Coming back to something more than the place where he did his laundry and re-packed his suitcase for the next road trip. Coming back to more than just the physical structure his Xbox lived in. 

 

He was coming back to Jordie. 

 

When they landed, he, Chych, Crous, and Kells all piled into Chych’s car, since they carpooled. It made sense logistically, but Dylan was itching to just _not be with them_ right now. 

 

They had a day off the next day, and Dylan knew exactly how he wanted to spend it. With Jordie. 

 

He texted the agency for like, the very soonest slot to see Jordie. God bless them for accepting text messages. Sometimes you needed to be discrete. 

 

The text he received back was confusing. _I’m so sorry to disappoint, hun. Jordie isn’t accepting clients at this time. However, we do have several guys free for tomorrow, if you’d like to set up a date with someone else._

 

Not accepting clients? What the fuck did that mean? 

 

_No thank you._ Dylan sent back because what was even the point without Jordie? He didn’t have any interest in getting fucked by some random dude. 

 

He let himself stew a little on the car ride home. It was late and dark, Arizona finally feeling cool. A dry heat. Dylan loved the shade, loved the sunshine too. It was nice to have both, even if it didn’t feel like a balance. Nothing felt like a balance then. 

 

He fell face first onto his bed when he got home, wiggling out of clothes he knew he should be hanging up, but throwing them on the floor instead. He had dry cleaning to take care of anyway. 

 

It was one in the morning, but Dylan knew Jordie was kind of a night owl, so he sent a text. 

 

_Hey, u up?_

 

Jordie’s response came in a matter of seconds. _Yeah. You get home safe?_

 

Okay. So Jordie was answering his text messages. That boded...well. 

 

_Just got home, crawled into bed. Wanna pass out._

 

_Go to bed, baby._

 

_I wanna see you. Not like, right now. But I miss you. And apparently you aren’t available._

 

_Well right now I’m about to hit save on my document and go to sleep._

 

_No like. You don’t want clients._

 

_Oh fuck. I forgot to tell you. Crap._

_I um, I’m not taking clients right now. Maybe we could talk on the phone?_

 

Dylan called. 

 

“Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to freak you out, if you were freaked out.” Jordie’s voice was level and calm, and Dylan could feel the jagged parts of him settle in his chest. 

 

“Just um, confused.” Honestly, yeah. Dylan was freaked out. Jordie felt, strangely, like something steady. He wasn’t ready to get that ripped from under him. 

 

“I still want to see you. But honestly, I have feelings for you. And I don’t want to cloud that with money and a business dynamic. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way and just want something without feelings and stuff. I’d be happy to recommend a guy from the agency who would treat you right.” 

 

“Jord,” Dylan said, cutting him off. “I really don’t want to see another guy. If it isn’t abundantly obvious from how many texts I send you a day, I’m into you too.” Dylan wasn’t normally good at talking about his feelings. But he and Jordie had talked about everything. And Jordie already told him how he felt. 

 

Jordie let out a breath. “Okay. Then can we just...hang out at some point? No...um, pre-scheduled expensive ‘date?’”

 

“Yes,” Dylan breathed. He didn’t want to sound too eager, but then he said, “I’m free tomorrow. Day off, all day.”

 

“Do you wanna come over for lunch?” 

 

Dylan smiled. The road trip had been shitty, but he could barely remember that now. He said yes. 

 

—-

 

Dylan let himself sleep in, then took a shower and wandered downstairs to find Jakob and his little dog on the couch, shirtless. Dylan wished they had better air conditioning but it was hard to cool such a big house. It was always hot. 

 

“You on your way out?” Jakob asked, and Dylan told him yeah—don’t expect him back. Jakob, blessedly, just held his tiny dog up like Simba and didn’t ask any other questions. Jakob was his favorite. 

 

He had Jordie’s address in his GPS and drummed his fingers on his steering wheel on his way over there. He hadn’t been to Jordie’s part of town, but he hadn’t been many places. He was more familiar with Tucson than Phoenix. He tried not to get hockey-frustrated right then. 

 

He pulled into the driveway of a little ranch-style house, a million times smaller than the house he was living in with the boys. He liked that. Liked knowing it was just Jordie. And his dog. 

 

Jordie answered his door in a t-shirt and basketball shorts that were loose but clingy, and when he closed the door behind Dylan, he pulled him into a hug. What Dylan wouldn’t give to live in those arms, muscular and tattooed, tight around his shoulders. He tucked his nose into Jordie’s neck and sank into the hug. 

 

Fuck. He needed human contact. Back in junior, there had been no shortage of touching and cuddling, just bros mostly, but still. And maybe it was because the Otters were Too Close or something, but he didn’t get that in the Runners, and he absolutely got nothing like that with the Coyotes. 

 

Jordie pulled away just enough to lean in for a kiss, one hand gently cupping the back of Dylan’s head. It was just a hello, nothing deep, no heat. But he’d been thinking about kissing Jordie for what felt like years, when it was really only days. 

 

“Hi,” Dylan breathed when they broke the kiss, and Jordie smiled at him. Jordie’s hands had found Dylan’s hips, and he barely registered anything other than the freckles across Jordie’s nose, how his hands could feel how warm Jordie’s skin was through his t-shirt. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Jordie said, He looked at Dylan like he was something special, and Dylan hadn’t felt special in years. Not since he was part of the top three picks photo with Jack and Connor. Didn’t everyone want to be special? “I missed you.” 

 

“I did too,” Dylan said. Dylan wasn’t sure he’d ever had a boyfriend before. He’d dated a few girls as a red herring, but he’d never felt the rush of being with the person you _liked_ , and having them like you back. Having them miss you. Getting to be with them after being apart, and feeling whole. 

 

It was maybe dramatic to feel all of that now, after three nights together. But so many of those feelings were firsts for Dylan. They were powerful. Big. Special. Important. 

 

Jordie brushed his cheek with his thumb. “Wanna eat?” he asked, and stepped away a bit. Jordie’s house came into focus for him: the smell of bacon in the air, the mid century modern furniture, the art on the walls. He was standing basically in Jordie’s living room, and he slipped his shoes off and followed Jordie deeper into his house.

 

It was homey and comfortable here, not flashy like Dylan felt like his teammate’s houses were, with the sterility of a professional decorator. 

 

The kitchen had a little two-person wooden table by a window, and looking outside, Dylan could see Jordie’s dog in the yard, on his back basking in the sun. 

 

“I should probably get him before he burns,” Jordie said, rolling his eyes. He called Juice in, and Dylan sat on the floor to be greeted by him while Jordie assembled turkey, bacon, avocado, tomato sandwiches on thick, lightly toasted bread. There was so much sunshine coming into Jordie’s house. It was small so there were windows everywhere. Sitting on Jordie’s kitchen floor, a lap full of heavy affectionate puppy, and a really good sandwich on it’s way to him was the best he’d felt in a long time. 

 

He was happy. 

 

Jordie helped him to his feet, and they ate their sandwiches at the little table. Jordie offered him coffee that he was brewing in some glass thing that looked like an hourglass, and Dylan accepted, still feeling a little tired from the last few days. He never slept particularly well on road trips. He never slept particularly well at home either though. He felt like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Erie, Debrincat’s snores lulling him to sleep. 

 

“So no more sex work?” Dylan asked, through a mouthful of sandwich. His momma raised him better, but he moved out of his mom’s house when he was a teenager. He could use some polish. Plus, that sandwich was _so fucking good_ that he couldn’t help but eat it as fast as he could. 

 

Jordie shrugged. “I didn’t really _need_ the income. It just made things easier, especially in the run up to trying to sell a couple more books on proposal. Book royalties come in every six months so it can be...tricky to budget.” 

 

“Going full time for writing then?” 

 

“Yeah. At least for now. I’ll probably get that itch to be around people again and find something that occupies a little more of my time. Gets me out of the house. Maybe not sex work again.” 

 

Dylan could hear an opening there. _Maybe not sexwork if we’re together._ Dylan wanted to be the reason he was considering not sleeping with strangers anymore. Even if that was selfish. 

 

“I bought your book,” he said, and Jordie’s eyes snapped up to his, amused. He’d found a trade paperback of _Never Say Blood_ in an airport bookstore, and let his teammates chirp him for it, but whatever. It had a little picture of Jordie looking very handsome on the inside back cover of it that he kept sneaking glances at. 

 

“Really?” His eyebrows were doing something that was Not Fair, Dylan thought. 

 

“Yeah, really. Reading might not be my first go-to, but like, I can read.” 

 

“If I thought you couldn’t read, I would have a much harder time connecting to you.” 

 

“And texting me dirty shit,” Dylan said. 

 

“And texting you dirty shit,” Jordie agreed with a proud little smirk on his face. “You read it?” 

 

“I started,” Dylan said, blushing, feeling caught. “I’m so used to sleeping on the plane that I didn’t get far. Just woke up with my customary neck ache.” 

 

“You don’t have to read my book,” Jordie said. “If having read my book was a prerequisite for dating me, I’d only be able to date like, fifty-year-old suburban dads who are also into world war two history.” 

 

Dylan laughed. “I’m sure you’re an incredible writer.” 

 

“You know my writing. I feel like I’ve texted you more words in the past week than I’ve written for my draft.” 

 

“Well if you write anything like you text, then I’m sure your book would just make me want to jerk off.” 

 

Jordie smiled, cleared their plates. Dylan watched him wash up, rinsing the plates quickly before putting them into the dishwasher, putting the condiments back into the fridge with the leftover bacon. He slipped Juice a couple bites of bacon. Dylan wanted that. A dog to slip some people food to sometimes. A dishwasher with mismatched plates in it. A cute boy to flirt with over lunch. 

 

He didn’t know how he’d be able to have this and the NHL at the same time. 

 

“Hey, you mentioned your neck is bothering you?” Jordie asked, and Dylan nodded. His neck was kind of always bothering him. He needed to like, do yoga or something, but really, when was that going to happen. “You want a neck rub?” 

 

Dylan smiled. “Are you just like this?” 

 

“Like what?” Jordie asked, and held his hand out for Dylan to take, so he could lead him into the living room. 

 

The living room was mostly just one couch, mid-century modern influenced, but clearly new, as it had a chaise portion that was Very In right now. 

 

“Just...I don’t know. You’re taking care of me.” Jordie sat on the couch and put a pillow on the floor in front of him, a clear invitation. Dylan sat between Jordie’s legs. 

 

“Then I guess yeah, I’m just like this. I like taking care of people. Especially people I like. So you’re on that list, I guess. Sucks to be you.” 

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Fuck yo-” he started, but his chirp was cut off with a moan when Jordie’s hands came to his neck and found a sore spot basically right away. 

 

“You were saying?” Jordie teased. 

 

“I gotta say uncle, please keep taking care of me if that’s your way.” 

 

Jordie only paused to give Dylan his Apple TV remote, and let him choose a random episode of Game of Thrones to watch, because Game of Thrones was his comfort show. He barely even realized he was putting it on, and old episode from the first season before everyone died. 

 

Juice came over and curled up, putting his head in Dylan’s lap, and Jordie kept digging his thumbs into Dylan’s neck in a way that was so different than getting a massage after a game because it was so far from the clinical touches from trainers. These weren’t motions borne from years of studying anatomy for the sake of physical therapy. They were the regular person touches of wanting to make someone you like feel good. 

 

“You are so good at that,” Dylan groaned, barely able to keep his eyes open. He had a cup of coffee in his stomach with his sandwich and had technically slept for nine hours, but he was tired on a bodily level that he’d never felt before the NHL. Not even in the O, when he basically lived on a bus with thirty other boys, juggling school and hockey. When guys talked about the NHL being a grind, they were not kidding. 

 

“I’m happy to help. Feeling any better?” 

 

Dylan just nodded, and slowly the neck massage turned into a scalp massage and Dylan melted in his seat, resting his head against Jordie’s thigh. 

 

It was daytime in a place that felt like perpetual summer, and Dylan was in Jordie’s space with Jordie’s dog, and nothing felt like it had when they had been together before, when Dylan had been paying for his company. 

 

“You actually want to be around me?” Dylan asked, because Dylan was nothing if not low self-esteem, generalized anxiety, and not much else in the body of a twenty-one-year-old. 

 

Jordie sighed, a short painful thing, and bent over Dylan to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

 

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re funny and you’re sweet. You’re a good listener. You bought my fucking book even though you’re not going to finish it-” 

 

“Hey-” 

 

Jordie cut him off with another kiss, this time to his temple. “And you’re sexy, and ambitious, and you give me fucking butterflies, which I haven’t had in god knows how long. So yeah. I like you.” 

 

Dylan shifted in his spot, enough to pull Jordie into a real kiss. He was shaking a little, with the effort not to cry because fuck - he wasn’t even sure if his friends liked him. Like, hockey friendships are so much based on circumstance and survival. Did he even click with the guys he lived with? Did it even matter?

 

It mattered with Jordie. 

 

Dylan situated himself on his knees between Jordie’s spread legs, and pushed Jordie back to rest against the back of the couch. “Can I?” he asked, and Jordie just nodded.

 

Dylan pushed his shirt up to press kisses to his stomach, and Jordie’s hands found his head, gentle in his hair. Jordie wasn’t hard yet, but he was getting there, and Dylan nuzzled him through the material of his shorts. Heard him let out a breathy sigh. 

 

“What do you like?” Dylan asked as he tugged on Jordie’s shorts, Jordie lifting his hips to let him pull them off. 

 

“I can’t imagine I would argue with anything you’re about to do,” he said. So it would be a discovery mission then. 

 

“Do you like um, fingers?” Dylan was blushing, but he had to ask. 

 

“Oh,” Jordie said, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time Dylan thought he’d ever seen. “I mean, if you’re into that.” 

 

“Are _you_ into that?” Dylan asked. Something cleared in Jordie’s face. Then he smiled, leaned forward to kiss Dylan, hard and fierce. 

 

“I’m not into that,” he said, and Dylan was glad he asked. Glad to be able to give Jordie what he actually wanted. He shifted Jordie’s boxer briefs down enough to get his dick out, and pressed a kiss to the head before getting down to business. 

 

If the way to a woman’s heart was through her clit, it wasn’t all that different for a guy. Dylan was determined to put up his minutes, get his mouth down there, be sloppy. He already knew how much Jordie liked hearing him, so he moaned unashamedly on Jordie’s dick, let him know he was enjoying this too. 

 

Jordie— _his Jordie—_ was always chatty during sex, and Dylan liked the feedback he gave, whether he used words like _I like your tongue right there_ , or whether he just let himself moan and shift his hips up for better access when Dylan sucked on his balls. 

 

Dylan couldn’t help but get a hand on himself. Jordie was so fucking sexy. He slipped a hand down the front of his boxers, jerked himself slowly. Not fast enough to make himself come. He didn’t really want to come in his underwear honestly. 

 

Dylan stayed on his knees until his jaw ached, until Jordie’s monologue melted into gasps and a warning, and he came in Dylan’s mouth, long pulses that Dylan swallowed down. 

 

“Jesus,” Jordie said, sounding wrung out. 

 

Dylan just smiled up at him, pleased with himself. He’d been wanting to do that for a while. 

 

Jordie helped pull him up from the floor and into his lap, straddling him. Dylan was so fucking tall that he had to hunch a little, but it was worth it for Jordie’s hands on his hips, the way the tips of his fingers drifted up under the hem of Dylan’s shirt as they kissed. The way Jordie reached into his shorts to get a good, confident, familiar grip on him, and started jerking him off. 

 

Dylan’s hands framed Jordie’s face, his beard soft under Dylan’s touch. He took Jordie’s backward baseball cap off (who likes the Yankees anyway?) so he could run his hands through Jordie’s hair. He liked how long it was on top, cropped short on the sides. Liked that, while Dylan knew he was not shy about making noises, sometimes the guys he was with could be fucking silent. Jordie wasn’t silent. 

 

They made out, long and slow, until Jordie got a good enough grip on Dylan’s waist to flip him onto his back on the couch, his hand coming back to work on Dylan a little tighter, a little faster. Then they made out some more, Jordie’s big body weighing Dylan down as he kissed Dylan breathless. 

 

By the time Jordie pulled away, still so close to Dylan’s face, Dylan was panting, his lips really feeling like he’d spent almost an hour on his knees, then in Jordie’s lap. Jordie smiled down at him. “God, baby,” he muttered, kissing him wet and easy, and Dylan came, his mess ending up on his shirt mostly. 

 

“Keeps getting better,” Dylan said, and Jordie agreed, folding the bottom part of Dylan’s shirt up to contain the mess, and helping him out of it. 

 

Jordie pulled away, sitting back on his heels, Dylan still laid out before him, legs spread. 

 

Dylan touched his fingertips to Jordie’s knee, encouraging. 

 

“That was incredible. Thank you,” Jordie said. He tucked himself back against Dylan’s bare chest, resting his head on Dylan’s collarbone. 

 

Dylan threaded his fingers through the back of Jordie’s hair, the strands soft and product-free. It looked wild without his hat on, and a little silly. But also really fucking sexy. 

 

The fact that Jordie still wanted him— _wanted him_ —was incredible to him. He could barely wrap his head around the idea of it. Someone being so into him that they want to try for something more than sex. But also like, still wanting the sex. 

 

He felt pathetic even thinking those thoughts. 

 

Game of Thrones was still on in the background, and Dylan brought his arms up to hold Jordie in place where he was, curled against his chest. He rubbed Jordie’s back and felt his sigh more than he could hear it, soft and happy. Juice jumped up on the chaise bit of the couch and blocked Dylan’s view a little, but he didn’t care. He’d seen these episodes a thousand times. He dozed a little until Juice scratched at the door to go out, and Jordie dutifully got up. He stretched his arms over his head, stiff from the way they were tangled up together. 

 

“You wanna maybe take him on a W-A-L-K with me?” he asked, finding his Yankees hat and covering up his messy hair with it again. And yeah, Dylan did want to take Jordie’s dog for a walk. 

 

“Before we really get into this,” Jordie said, as they walked down the sidewalk in Jordie’s neighborhood, Dylan in one of Jordie's t-shirts. Dylan wanted to be holding Jordie’s hand, but...that wasn’t going to be happening in public. Probably no one would notice or care, but Dylan was just at the beginning of his career, and just at the beginning of figuring out what being gay really meant to him. He wasn’t chancing anything. “I do have some kind of shitty circumstances that I should let you know about.” 

 

Dylan looked at him, raised an eyebrow. “Ominous.”

 

“Sorry, it’s not like, life-threatening. I just want you to know. I’m Canadian, and I’m here on a tourist visa. Which expires in about a month.” 

 

“Oh,” Dylan said. He knew Jordie was Canadian. He’d heard him say ‘against.’ They had bonded over not being Americans. But he hadn’t thought about _how_ Jordie was in America. Dylan had a work visa that he’d barely had to worry about. He figured that Jordie had something similar. “I hadn’t even thought about-” 

 

“I know,” Jordie said, sighing. “It’s not really something I’ve been thinking about much, because the plan was always to go back home when it expired, and just, uh, sorry for this particular phrasing, but close the book on my time in Arizona. Go home and write the rest of my novel in BC.” 

 

They paused for Juice to sniff something, and Dylan let this roll over in his head. 

 

“Alright. Well. That obviously blows.” It was pretty much the anxiety he’d been trying to talk to Crouser about, except Dylan had thought he would be the one who would have to get the hell out of dodge. 

 

Jordie chuckled. “Yeah.” 

 

“But um, I mean. I still want to be with you.” 

 

“You do?” Jordie asked. His eyes were sad, a deep brown coupled with a concerned, furrowed brow that Dylan didn’t think he’d ever seen on Jordie’s easy-going face.

 

“I want to...see where this goes,” Dylan said. Jordie was the first guy he’d really liked, in a way that felt at all possible. It felt worth it to try, even though he pre-missed him. Could hardly believe he’d find a boy so nice just to have him ripped away from him so soon. 

 

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Jordie said, and when they turned the corner of the block, Jordie’s house was in sight once more. Dylan liked that they had never talked about Dylan’s boundaries, but Jordie could sense them. That Jordie worried about things like that. Dylan wondered if he could ever be as considerate in return. “Obviously I do too.” 

 

“And like, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but mine is pretty crazy. But I’ll be playing games in Vancouver. Will you be living anywhere near Vancouver?” Dylan’s head was still spinning. He was just trying to figure this out. 

 

Jordie reached over to him, just to press a soft touch to his hands that he was wringing. Dylan shook them out. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that. 

 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll be okay,” Jordie said, back to that unshakable calm that he emanated. Dylan knew Jordie was—obviously—older than him. The years were intimidating, but outside of some difference in pop culture references, it hadn’t been too weird so far. Dylan wondered if Jordie was so level-headed because of his age. He liked to picture himself at thirty-one being as even-keel as Jordie. 

 

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite have the imagination for that. 

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon making dinner in the kitchen, which devolved mostly into Jordie standing right behind Dylan, hands on his hips, as Dylan stirred the risotto which needed an occasional extra cup of broth that Jordie would add when it needed it. Dylan felt like a stirring machine, but it’s not like he knew anything about cooking. Plus, it was nice to have Jordie pressed up against him like that for so long, telling Dylan about his family, and pressing kisses to his neck. 

 

\---

 

Dylan’s hockey continued to kind of...suck. Jordie’d been researching Dylan, because that’s who he is. And because he had a book proposal and a new draft to procrastinate. He got his best work done when putting things off. 

  
He learned a lot about Dylan. He’d been such a cute kid, who wore a lot of Erie Otters yellow, apparently. He was a big deal in the O, but colossally shadowed by Hockey Jesus. Even Jordie knew who Connor McDavid was. He followed hockey enough for that. Even if you didn’t follow hockey, being Canadian was enough, really.

 

Dylan had been drafted high and then just...never produced in the NHL like everyone had been expecting. 

 

Since their first real date when Dylan had come over for sandwiches and Game of Thrones, they had been spending as much time as Dylan’s schedule allowed for together. Over the course of a couple weeks, they’d worked their way through handjobs and blowjobs, and Jordie was incredibly pleased to be able to explore Dylan like this, explore the sexual side to their relationship anew. They had agreed to take things slow.

 

Still, Jordie’s impending need to leave the country weighed on both of them. 

 

“What if you visited a lot?” Dylan said, adding another idea to their list of ways they could handle this shit. “I know that puts a lot of extra weight on you specifically, but I’d help pay and everything.” 

 

Jordie smiled at him. They were laying in Jordie’s bed, post-lazy blowjobs. Dylan had had an afternoon game that day so he was done earlier than Jordie was used to. He’d tried to get as much work done that morning when Dylan had been busy as possible. Dylan was the biggest distraction he’d ever had. 

 

Since their transition away from Dylan being his client, Jordie had learned so much about him, and what he liked in bed. How incredibly giving he was. Specifically, he learned that Dylan was not afraid to spend upwards of forty-five minutes with Jordie’s dick in his mouth, which he needed to stop thinking about if he was going to have any kind of productive conversation. 

 

“I do tend to get a lot of writing done on airplanes,” Jordie said, considering. They’d talked through some options, including Jordie going back to Canada for a while, and then moving back down to Arizona until the season ended. Jordie could get a place in BC, and they could spend the offseason there, or split time in Ontario. “It’s just-” Jordie started. 

 

“Juice,” Dylan said, chewing his lip. Jordie’s dog posed a lot of complications. Jordie didn’t ever want to take him on an airplane, and he was worried about being away from him so much, leaving him with family in BC maybe or boarding him. Jordie didn’t rescue an animal to give it anything less than the best life he could manage. And that didn’t sound like it to him. 

 

“It just doesn’t seem fair to him,” Jordie said. He and Dylan had been together for such a short period of time, and already they were both consumed with thoughts of how they would get to spend as much time together as possible. 

 

Dylan sighed and flopped against Jordie’s chest. “We’ll figure it out,” Jordie assured him. Jordie knew that every relationship was different, and that maybe going slow was a good, appropriate choice to make in the face of regular circumstances. But he and Dylan did not have regular circumstances. 

 

Jordie heard a phone buzz somewhere on the floor, left in a pants pocket and forgotten. 

 

Neither of the moved to get it. Jordie liked that about Dylan. He didn’t need to be on his phone all the time. Especially when they were together like this, trying to enjoy some semblance of afterglow. Dylan just gave him his full attention. 

 

The phone buzzed again. Then multiple times in a row, like a handful of text messages, or notifications. Not like a phone call. 

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. “Probably the team group text. I’ll just turn it off,” he said and went to fish his phone out of his pants pocket from the pile they were in on the floor. 

 

He looked at his notifications though, his eyebrows pinched and he went completely ghost-white. “Fuck.” 

 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jordie said, getting up to stand behind Dylan, look over his shoulder at his phone. 

 

He had a ton of notifications and text messages which basically added up to the same news: He’d been traded to Montreal. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dylan said. Unconsciously, he backed up the half step he needed to in order to be pressed against Jordie again, and Jordie held onto him, tucked his face right up next to Dylan’s. 

 

The phone started to ring in earnest now, a name on the screen Jordie didn’t recognize. 

 

“My agent,” Dylan said, and answered the call. 

 

Jordie could hear Dylan’s agent talking, explaining the situation. Dylan was expected to make practice in Quebec the next day. He had a flight already booked for early in the morning. Dylan sounded numb as he answered a few questions, asked a few questions. 

 

When he hung up the phone, he tossed it on the bed and turned to bury his face in Jordie’s neck.   
  
“Fuck,” he said again, and then he was crying, shoulders shaking as the tears came. “They traded me for a fucking pick.”

 

Jordie just hung onto him, held him tight. “I got you,” he said over and over, stroking Dylan’s back, and combing through his hair. “I got you.” 

 

Dylan’s crying evened out eventually, and when he finally met Jordie’s gaze, his eyes were red and puffy. Jordie wiped his thumbs over Dylan’s cheeks, pressed a kiss to his lips. 

 

“Okay, one thing at a time then. First, let’s put some clothes on,” Jordie said, and watched just the barest hint of a smile hit Dylan’s lips. Dylan nodded, and they got dressed. It already felt a little more handleable clothed. 

 

“Alright, what’s next?” Jordie asked. 

 

“I need to call my mom,” Dylan said, and Jordie agreed. 

 

He left Dylan in his bedroom for some privacy and went downstairs to make some sandwiches. Jordie knew Physical Touch was his actual love language, but that’s only because Sandwiches wasn’t an option on the quiz. He got their sandwiches ready and made some tea, and Dylan came downstairs a half hour later looking like he had a little more confidence. 

 

“I need to pack, but I don’t want to leave,” Dylan said, and that’s when the reality of the situation really hit Jordie. Tomorrow Dylan would be living in a different city. He had to go home to his house and pack up his things. Because he was moving. 

 

Jordie just pulled Dylan to him. “I don’t want you to leave either.” 

 

“Well, it might solve one problem,” Dylan said. 

 

“What’s that?” Jordie asked. 

 

“Well. I mean. Montreal. It’s in Canada.” 

 

“Oh,” Jordie said, the thought somehow not dawning on him. “It’s in Canada.” He smiled and saw his smile reflected in Dylan’s face, a complicated landscape of hope and disappointment. 

 

“It’s...new options,” Dylan said. 

 

They ate their sandwiches and went back upstairs because Dylan said he wasn’t leaving without one more serious fuck. Jordie took him on his back. He pressed Dylan’s hands up above his head, threaded their fingers together. Dylan held on tight. He would never tire of the way that Dylan kissed, so eager and tender and unconcerned for any actual technique. He didn’t overthink. He just did what felt good, and knowing that made Jordie feel good. 

 

It was long and slow after just having come barely an hour before, and when Dylan came he arched his back and slid down on Jordie’s dick deep, and Jordie could not imagine Dylan moving to another country. Dylan was _right here_ after all. It seemed unfathomable at that moment. 

 

When Dylan finally tried to leave, they made out by the door for what felt like another several years. 

 

Jordie didn’t know when the next time he’d see Dylan would be. He watched him get into his car and drive away. 

 

\---

 

Dylan was shocked but honestly, fuck Arizona. Fuck the Coyotes. They never gave him a fucking chance. He was glad to be going back to Canada. 

 

He had a lot to do once he got home, and he wasn’t really sure when he’d sleep. When he got home, Kells and Crouser were in the living room, watching Kells play Fortnite. 

 

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Kells said, when Dylan sat down on the couch next to them. 

 

Dylan shrugged. “I mean, something needed to happen I guess. And that something was me.” 

 

Lawson was the only one of them to take his eyes off the screen. Not that it mattered since Kells was the one playing, but it was still a nice gesture. “I’m going to miss you, man,” Lawson said, and it felt genuine. Like, maybe he wouldn’t be texting Jakob Chychrun or Colton Keller after he’s traded, but...maybe Lawson was a real friend. 

 

It felt pretty fucking shitty to kind of find that out because you were being traded, though. 

 

“I gotta go pack and call my brothers,” Dylan said, and the boys nodded. Crouser fist bumped him on the way out. Kells kept his eyes on the TV. 

 

The text thread between him, Matt, and Ryan had been blowing up. He’d sent a message before he’d left Jordie’s house letting them know to hold their horses, and now he pulled out his big suitcase and put it on his bed. Then he called Ryan. 

  
He and Ryan didn’t talk much about hockey usually, but this is different. Ryan had been traded twice. Dylan figured he could at least get some advice on what to put in his suitcase.

 

Ryan was two time zones away from him, and Dylan could tell he either woke him up, or Ryan was just that close to sleep. He’d feel bad if he didn’t need his brother so much. 

 

“Hey, kid,” Ryan said, his voice familiar and welcome. Dylan wasn’t going to cry again. He wasn’t. “You’re going to be so close to me now.” 

 

Dylan laughed. “Something like that.” 

 

“And in Canada. You know mom will like that.” 

 

“Yeah, how far is Montreal from Lorne Park? She probably already has plane tickets.” The jokes were weak, but they were trying to keep it light. He could tell Ryan was kind of walking on eggshells. 

 

“Are you like, settled in in New York yet even?” Dylan asked. Ryan had practically just been traded. 

 

“It helps when you have help,” Ryan admitted, meaning his girlfriend. 

 

“I um. I might. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it yet. But I might have some help.” 

 

“What? Bud, holding out of me. Who is he?” Ryan asked, and Dylan was so fucking stupid. Of fucking course he could talk to his fucking brother about this. He’d been isolating himself out of fear. But this was just Ryan. And there had never been any hiding that he was gay in front of Ryan. 

 

“His name is Jordie and he’s a novelist,” Dylan said, and Ryan whistled. 

 

“A little too smart for you then?” 

 

“Shut up, asshole,” Dylan smiled. He pulled open his underwear drawer and threw its entire contents into his suitcase. “But yeah, one hundred percent possible there.” 

 

“And he’s going to move to Canada for you?” 

 

“We didn’t get a chance to talk about it. But. He is Canadian. And his tourist visa is almost up, so he has to go back to Canada at some point. He wasn’t planning on moving to Montreal, but it seems maybe possible now.” 

 

“Well, maybe that would help make the trade tolerable. I don’t know what I would have done without Syd honestly. You have to do so much work to fit in with a new team that coming home to someone familiar is really great. How long have you been together? Can’t have been long.” 

 

“No,” Dylan admitted. How long had they been together? “Barely two months, I think.” Not even two months. A month and a half. If you counted from their first night together which was generous, at best. They were so new. 

 

“That’s...early.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. But also, like, why not just try it out. Why not take a chance on whatever they had. 

 

Ryan walked Dylan through what to remember to pack now for the plane. Dylan would need to hire movers for the rest of his stuff and figure out what to do with his car. That would come later, he figured. 

 

Ryan told him to lay out an outfit to put on in the morning for the plane ride, and reminded him that he was flying to Canada, where it was winter. 

 

He got off the phone with Ryan and fell into bed. He set his alarm for early, then called Jordie. He just wanted to hear his voice one more time before he moved to Montreal. They mostly just said goodnight to each other. When they hung up, Jordie promised that he’d see Dylan soon. And Dylan held onto that as he fell asleep. 

 

\---

 

Dylan texted Jordie when he landed in Montreal. He’d gone straight to practice, apparently, which made Jordie feel very, very tired. They didn’t have a game that day, thank god. Dylan called in the afternoon, his voice small and far away. 

 

“Hey,” Dylan said, and even though it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he last heard Dylan’s voice, he felt a wave of relief. 

 

“Baby. How are you? Tell me everything.” 

 

“I’m in a hotel room until I can find an apartment. They have someone to help with that apparently. I’m tired.” He sounded tired. 

 

“I wish I could hold you,” Jordie said. By now, he could very easily imagine what Dylan looked like in a hotel room, but at least in his mind’s eye, he was there too. “Thinking about when I can see you.” 

 

“Even those words make me happy,” Dylan admitted. “Um, what is your schedule like? What...I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

 

“Yeah,” Jordie said. “Well, we both know I’m about to get booted from the states, so I do need to be in Canada soon.” 

 

“I’d love it if you came to my part of Canada,” Dylan said. His voice was so hopeful. “Though, like. I get it if you can’t.” 

 

“What if I packed up everything here—it all fits in my truck—and came to you. And then we can figure things out from there.” It was scary to suggest. Jordie wasn’t sure he’d be making the same choice if he didn’t have the visa deadline chasing him down. But he didn’t have anything waiting for him in BC. Didn’t have any responsibilities except for Juice. 

 

“Really?” Dylan asked. Fuck. Jordie just wanted to be there now. 

 

“Yeah, baby,” Jordie said. “Let’s look at your hockey schedule, I’ll see how long it takes to drive up to Montreal. We’ll figure it out.” 

 

Jordie took out a notebook and his laptop, and they switched to Facetime so they could see each other. Juice jumped up on Jordie’s bed to investigate the familiar voice. Dylan looked so tired, the bags under his eyes so dark they looked bruised. But it didn’t matter to Jordie. Just seeing his face was enough at that moment. 

 

“Okay, driving should take about four days if I drive about ten hours a day. It’s a little long for Juice, but probably better than five days.” 

 

“Shit that’s a long time,” Dylan said. “Okay, well we have a home game tomorrow, then we leave on Thursday for a roadie. Back on Sunday.” 

 

Shit. It would be a whole week until they saw each other again. “Okay, I’ll aim to get there Monday? Do you have a game?” 

 

This level of logistical organization wasn’t something he’d been through with a boyfriend in years. He’d had one serious boyfriend coming out of college, and he remembered trying to figure out the Christmas holidays between their two families, which was tricky since Jordie was on the island and his boyfriend was from the mainland. Mostly, it felt weird to do this with Dylan because it was so new. Like they were skipping steps. Still, Jordie didn’t know what else to do. 

 

They talked for another hour before Dylan really did need to get some dinner and then go to bed. Jordie was just as reluctant to hang up their Facetime call as he had been to let him leave his house the night before. 

 

And in the morning, Jordie started packing. 

 

\---

 

Dylan felt numb for a week. Fitting into a new team, and a new system, was a strange contortion. He was treated so differently in Montreal—like he had something to contribute. Like they wanted him there. 

 

But he put up three points in his first three games. He wanted to tell Arizona to suck his entire ass. 

 

He had a roommate on the road, Noah Juulsen, who was on his world junior team a few years back. He clicked with Noah, who helped him socialize with the rest of the guys at meals and in the room. It wasn’t so bad. 

 

By Friday, Jordie was packed up and on the road, Arizona in his rear-view, just like it was for Dylan. They texted as much as they could, but Dylan’s schedule was crazy, and Jordie was still trying to write as he packed up his things from the house he was renting, and started driving to Montreal. They sent plenty of selfies (and photos of Juice), and Dylan was grateful that they both had significant distractions that week. 

 

He had the day off on Monday, and in the morning, he went to sign a lease on a furnished apartment just outside Montreal. None of his teammates lived in the building. He didn’t really want guys dropping in, even if that wasn’t super team-spirited. He got the keys and rolled his big suitcase into a two bedroom apartment. He’d chosen one with its own fenced in dog area for Juice, even though he knew Juice deserved a yard. If he stayed in Montreal - if Jordie stayed in Montreal - they could get a house with a yard next season. 

 

He let out a sigh. The apartment had none of the homeyness that Jordie’s house in Phoenix had. But it did mean that Dylan had some time before he had to commit to buying his own couch. It meant that there was a bed for him to sleep on that night. He stood by the front door and snapped a photo that he dumped into his family group text, then sent it separately to Jordie. 

 

He walked deeper into the apartment, huge suitcase dragging behind him. He’d toured the place - or a unit exactly like it on a higher floor - so he knew what to expect. What tile would be in the shower, and what wall the bed in the master would be placed against. 

 

But walking into his actual bedroom for the first time, he realized that this would hopefully be _their_ bedroom. And that Jordie would be there in a matter of hours. He snapped another photo, this time of the bed, already made and looking really comfortable honestly, and sent that to Jordie too. 

 

He got a phone call two minutes later, after he heaved his suitcase up on the bed, and unzipped it to unpack. Laundry was obviously his first task. 

 

“Baby,” Jordie said when Dylan picked up. “I’m driving. You can’t send me fucking bed pictures. I’m going to crash my car.” 

 

Dylan laughed. “Well, I’m here. The lease is signed. All that’s left is to christen the place.” 

 

“I’m sure we won’t have a problem with that,” Jordie said. “How’s the place? Do you like it?” 

 

“I can barely see what it looks like through how badly I miss you,” Dylan said. He sounded pathetic. But he was kind of pathetic. At least when it came to Jordie. 

 

“I’m sure it’s great,” Jordie said. “Juice and I will love it.” They still hadn’t talked about how permanent the situation was going to be, but Dylan hoped it could be their home. Dylan hoped they did love it. 

 

“How long until you get here?” Dylan asked. He wasn’t sure what he was even going to do. He had about twelve minutes of unpacking left, and that counted putting his clothes in the wash. 

 

“About three hours. We got an early start.” 

 

“I can’t wait to see you,” Dylan said. 

 

“I miss you so much. I’ll see you soon.” 

 

\---

 

It was dark out by the time Jordie got close to the apartment building. He pulled over to let Juice out for a bit, so he wouldn’t have to worry about him right when they got to Dylan. He had a feeling he’d be distracted. 

 

He parked in the parking lot and called Dylan, who burst out the front door so quickly Jordie assumed he must have been waiting in the lobby. Jordie let Juice out of the car and Juice tackled Dylan, gave him sloppy kisses and demanded his attention, which Dylan tried to abide. But he couldn’t stop looking at Jordie, right behind him. 

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jordie said, and Dylan stood up from his dog-greeting crouch to throw his arms around Jordie’s neck. Jordie just held on tight, buried his nose in Dylan’s neck to soak up as much Dylan smell as he could. He wanted to kiss him. But he knew they had to be careful. 

 

“Oh my god I can’t believe you’re here,” Dylan said, his grip on Jordie tightening. Jordie was fine to die in that hug. He could feel Juice trying to jump up on them, get in on the excitement. Jordie couldn’t stop smiling. 

 

“Should we go up first and get Juice settled, then worry about stuff?” he suggested, and Dylan nodded. Jordie grabbed his laptop bag and locked his car. 

 

Dylan just bounced in the elevator, holding Juice’s leash. 

  
“So it’s kind of plain,” Dylan said, already trying to apologize for the apartment.

 

“We’ll make it home,” Jordie promised. Dylan looked at him like he was about to cry. 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “We will.” 

 

They let Juice loose in the apartment so he could smell all the smells, and Jordie pressed Dylan up against the back of the door so he could kiss him. 

 

Jordie could never forget what it felt like to kiss Dylan. But going without for a week made this kiss feel unreal. Dylan was so tangible against him, his lips so warm, the taste of him exactly the same. 

 

“Should I give you the tour?” Dylan asked, breathless. 

 

“Is that just a cute way of showing me the bedroom?” Jordie asked, and Dylan nodded, kissing him again. 

 

Dylan had put away his huge suitcase already, and carefully left Jordie half the drawers and half the closet for his things - not that Dylan had enough stuff with him to take up the space he’d allotted himself. They shut Juice out of the room which Jordie felt a little bad about, but he’d had four days straight without having Juice out of his sight, so he figured they could have a half hour apart now. 

 

He just backed Dylan up against the bed until Dylan’s legs hit it, and he crawled up, backward. Jordie followed. 

 

“I’ve been thinking about this basically every second for a week,” Jordie said. “It’s been rough, I’ve jerked off so many times.” 

 

Dylan nodded, pulling Jordie’s face towards his, hands on either side. “Yeah, basically same oh my god.” 

 

It had been one fucking week, and Jordie felt whole, complete, centered now that he was back in Dylan’s space, able to touch him again. He pulled his own shirt off over his head and wrestled Dylan’s off of him. They were panting and naked before Dylan had to go searching for the condoms and lube because he _just saw them_ but where were they?  


He found them in the bathroom which was a bonehead place to put them, and tossed them at Jordie, who did not like the several moments of not being pressed together. 

 

When Jordie finally slid into him, Dylan was on his back, same as the last time they had sex. Jordie wanted to see his face, Dylan wanted to hold onto Jordie’s shoulders, tangle his hands in Jordie’s hair. They kissed and kissed, gasping into each others’ mouths. Dylan either had his eyes slammed shut, or had them trained directly on Jordie’s, the eye contact so intense sometimes Jordie couldn’t bear it. Had to tuck his face in Dylan’s collarbone, suck kisses that wouldn’t leave marks. 

  
He wished he could leave marks.

 

When they came, Dylan kept trembling, locked his feet around Jordie’s back so he wouldn’t pull out. 

 

“Please don’t leave,” he said, voice so vulnerable that Jordie didn’t know what else to do but promise he’d stay. He’d stay. 

 

They held each other for long after that, Jordie not sure where to even find towels to use to clean them up, Dylan in no state to let him go searching. Jordie couldn’t imagine letting him go either. 

 

Finally, Juice whined at the bedroom door, and Jordie sighed.

 

“Time to get up I guess,” Dylan said. 

 

“For now,” Jordie promised. They got cleaned up and dressed, and spent a half hour dragging Jordie’s stuff up to the apartment. They got Jordie situated with a sensor for his car to open the parking garage door and asked the woman in the leasing office where the best Chinese food was. Let Juice run around the fenced-in area, chasing the golden doodle who was down there too. 

 

“He looks happy,” Jordie said, watching his dog chase for a tennis ball. “It’ll be nice to be around other dogs more often.” 

 

He was trying to just be as positive about this as possible for Dylan, while still only saying true things. Dylan bit his lip and smiled. When they got back upstairs they flopped onto the couch, and Jordie joked about having more stuff already than Dylan. At least for the time being. 

 

“I think that I’ll get like, three boxes of stuff from Arizona,” Dylan said, shrugging. “Like, my Xbox, some clothes. I don’t even know what else. It’s not like I own a waffle maker or plates.” 

 

“We can get a waffle maker if you want one,” Jordie said. “Start filling this place with our things.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. He rested his head on Jordie’s shoulder. Took Jordie’s hand in his. “I figured the second bedroom could be a guest room, but also your office if you wanted.” 

 

Jordie knew they weren’t really ready to say ‘I love you.’ But he knew there were a lot of ways to say it without actually _saying it._ And he was hearing it now. 

 

“I’d like that,” he said, pressing a kiss to Dylan’s forehead. 

 

They had a long way to go. A lot to talk about. Explore. Unpack—literally and figuratively. But for now, they had happiness, and they had each other. And it was a lot more than either of them had in Arizona. It was a lot. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I write this pairing, I think “literally no one wants this,” and then folks show up for it. So bless you. Having folks excited about what you’re writing makes such a difference, I can’t even tell you. This fic cannibalized like, four other stories that I just couldn’t make work, so hopefully I can put those to rest too, haha. 
> 
> Epilogue: Jordie sells his next two books on proposal. One is set in Montreal. He stays. Next season, when Jordie and Dylan come back to Montreal, they buy a little house with a yard for Juice. And while no one asks directly, his team knows about Jordie. Asks Dylan if he wants to bring Jordie to WAG events. His hockey and his life are good. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm trying out a new thing! It's a tumblr just for my fic! I feel a little weird posting about fic on my main blog, so I've created a new space just for hockey RPF. You can find me [here](https://betsywritesfic.tumblr.com/)! IDK come say hi, follow for fic updates, etc. Or I'm thewestishharpooners in my main blog. Mostly hockey.


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